Don't Let the Sun
by Ranranami
Summary: A month after they thought the Lost Boys were gone for good, Star and Michael start to suspect they're being watched. So they decide to make a run for it while they still can. The Lost Boys are back, and David doesn't plan on letting them go.
1. Chapter 1: Phone Call

Bright yellow stripes flew beneath them, illuminated by the headlights of the old car, while up ahead the night was so dark Michael could scarcely see more than ten feet in front of them. It seemed like ever since they'd started running like this, two years ago, all the nights were dark. Each one more so than the last, until he felt like they were just stumbling towards some unknown destination, blind and terrified.

"Are you going to be good to drive soon? I think there's a gas station up ahead," he turned towards Star, who nestled in the passenger seat with her shawl tightly drawn about her. Even with the heater blasting full force on them both, they were always cold. Always.

She slowly lifted her head, smiling drowsily up at her companion, reaching up to brush her hair from her face, "do you think that's a good idea?"

"We don't really have much of a choice, Star. We need gas. If we don't get it now, we'll be stuck out in the middle of nowhere. At night." Neither of them wanted to take the risk to stop driving, but...the idea of being stranded with no church nearby to seek shelter in...was even worse.

"It's like the nights are getting longer these days," Star sighed, leaning up against her window and gazing out at what little she could see of the road in front of them, glancing up ahead to catch a glimpse of a tall glowing sign gradually come into view. A beacon.

"Did you hear something?" She jerked up, alert.

"Like what?" Michael's lips quirked into a bitter half-smile, "bike engines? Yeah. But we're probably just hearing things again." He only half-believed what he said. Sometimes it was true. Sometimes...well, sometimes it wasn't.

* * *

 _ **2 Years Ago**_

"Michael," Star's voice came out in a panicked whisper over the phone.

Michael sat up in bed and leaned over to switch on his bedside lamp. He hadn't heard from her in over a month, not since that summer night they'd killed David and the others. So it was a surprise to hear from the gypsy girl he thought didn't want anything to do with him, and an even bigger one to be woken from his sleep at 3 AM. He was lucky he picked it up first, before anyone else in the house was woken up.

"Do you know what time it is?" He croaked, rubbing at his burning eyes as they adjusted to the light of the lamp beside him. Not that he'd been in a terribly deep sleep anyway. The new bed was way too soft. It was murder on his back. He supposed it was better than sleeping the way David and his boys did it, though. Not that Michael had seen them in that state, but Sam had certainly repeated the story enough times for him to have a vague image burned into his mind of Marko thrashing and wailing while David, Paul, and Dwayne dangled around him from rusty pipes.

"I'm sorry, Michael. I just...I really need to come see you."

'Come see me?!' He wanted to blurt out, 'after you just up and ditched me, no word of where you'd gone, nothing?' Granted, their tryst had only lasted a few days. Barely even half a week. But waking up the morning after that nightmare, finding both Star and Laddie gone without so much as a good-bye note...it hurt. Maybe part of the pain was his pride. He wasn't sure. But if she was calling him like this, there was probably a good reason behind it. So Michael took a deep breath, and remained calm.

"Where are you right now?" He asked her quietly, running a hand through his hair and scratching the back of his head.

"I'm at a payphone out by the old market. Don't worry, I've got a ride. And I'm sorry to call you like this. I'm sorry I didn't tell you why I was leaving. I'm sorry about everything, but I really don't think I've got much time. Listen, I need to know something. It's...it's important."

"Well, go ahead. Ask away. I'm all ears," Michael sighed, licking his lips. This wasn't really how he'd wanted to talk to her again, half-awake and grumpy, aching from a pulled muscle when he'd had to stumble across the wraparound porch the day before because Sam was dumb enough to try to lift his weight set without a spotter and nearly broke his own neck in the process.

For a moment, the line was silent, and he thought she'd hung up. "Star? You still there?"

"Michael. I need to know if you've seen them around anywhere."

In that moment he nearly dropped the phone, startled into complete alertness. "Why? ...Have you?"

"I asked first."

He wanted to hang up now. He wanted to slam the phone down and flip his lamp off, burrowing under his covers until he was so deep beneath them he hit China on the other side. But he didn't. Instead, Michael's grip on the receiver tightened until his knuckles turned white, "yeah. Yeah, I have. Once in awhile when I'm out with Sam on the boardwalk, just out of the corner of my eye. But I know I'm just being paranoid. They're dead, Star. They're dead." He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the words poured out from his mouth, as if he hadn't fully invested in pondering his greatest fear until someone else threw it right in his face.

"Okay. I was afraid of that. I'm coming over."

"... _Why_?" He already knew the answer, but he asked anyway. Because he desperately hoped he was wrong, and she just called because she'd had a bad dream and wanted to make sure it was nothing more than just that. An illusion drawn by her subconscious when she was locked away from the waking world.

"Because I've been seeing them too."

"...Shit."


	2. Chapter 2: Coffee

Author's notes: When I say 'present day', I'm not referring to the year 2016, I'm just using it to make it clear it's not the flashback portion of the story.

* * *

 ** _Present Day_**

The car was in park, and the lights from the gas station were blinding. They had a limited time to get in and get out, both Star and Michael knew that, so there was no room to talk much.

"Do you want to hang out here and pump, or you want to go inside?" Michael turned towards Star, who was busy fiddling with her door handle nervously, afraid of even letting her foot touch the concrete, much less spend the precious minutes it would take standing outside to fill the tank.

"It doesn't make much of a difference, does it?" She smiled weakly at him and brushed her hair from her face. She was right, of course. If the Lost Boys were about to catch up to them, they could easily take both Michael and Star out no matter whether they were inside the building, inside the car, and especially in the open air of the parking lot.

"I guess not. Do you want any coffee?"

Star shrugged, "might as well. It's my turn to drive, anyway."

Michael nodded, quickly pushing open his door and grabbing a crumpled handful of bills from the passenger side glove compartment before swiftly closing the door behind him and taking off towards the gas station. He didn't run. Didn't want to draw attention. But he wasn't walking, either.

When he reached the entrance to the store, Michael paused and shook his head. He'd swear he saw a flash of sparkling metal and bleach blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. But that wasn't possible. There weren't any bikes in the parking lot...just the one car. Sometimes he wondered if he'd gone crazy, and took Star into that pit of madness with him.

"Evening," an older woman with stringy gray hair rasped from the front counter, not looking up at him as she flipped idly through a dog-eared catalog.

"Hi," Michael replied automatically, glancing around the store just to make sure nobody else was in there with him, before he strolled to the counter and placed a few bucks down in front of him, "how much is coffee?"

The woman indicated a small hand-written sign beside the register with the general prices on them, still focusing on her catalog. People working graveyard shifts didn't tend to be too social, and this woman was no exception.

"Okay...uh...twenty on pump 3, and two coffees..." Michael counted out his change and took a receipt from the woman's hand before he slipped over to an island counter on the other side of the store. As he filled two Styrofoam cups with some dark roast slop that looked like it had more coffee grounds than water in it, a soft ringing rang through the air. Michael quickly spun around to face the door, but there was nobody there.

"You're jumpy, aintcha?" The woman at the counter asked with a soft smile, glancing over at him.

"A little," Michael shook his head and smiled bitterly at how paranoid he must look.

"I think I'm going to get some chips too," he told her crossing towards a rack to snatch up a bag of funions. "How much?"

Money was exchanged, and with the bag tucked into his teeth, Michael went back to the two abandoned cups of coffee to stir in a bit of sugar and powdered creamer. Funny thing, it looked like they'd been moved just a little further from where he'd set them. But maybe he was just tired.

"Have a nice night. Be safe out there." The woman waved to him as Michael left, pushing the door open with his back and striding towards the car. Star was already sitting in the driver's side, tapping on the steering wheel with a nervous energy about her.

"Miss me?" Michael asked after he was back inside and handing her a cup of coffee, dropping the chips into his lap and buckling his seatbelt.

"You took too long," Star chided quietly, pealing out of the parking lot a little too fast, making the wheels screech in protest. They didn't have much time left to waste. Not that they ever did, anyway.

"Sorry."

They drove in silence. But that wasn't anything new. It was hard to think of much to say on the longer drives these days. One would think halfway through the bible belt, there'd be more churches around.

"This coffee tastes funny," Star complained, taking a sip from her cup.

Michael was inclined to agree, but he quickly downed his own before shrugging it off, "shitty batch, I guess."

"...You used too much sugar."

He leaned back in his seat and watched her drive, smirking softly. "Maybe next time you can get the coffee, then."

Sympathy for the Devil crackled through the car radio, and neither Michael nor Star could avoid laughing at the insanely poor timing, even as they picked up speed on the road and the sound of engines behind them seemed to roar into life once more.

* * *

 _ **2 Years Ago**_

"...Michael, do you know what time it is?" Grandpa Emerson rasped as he shoved his bedroom door open and squinted at his eldest grandson.

"Uh...can you come in the kitchen? I need to talk to you." Michael rubbed his hands together nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

"Couldn't trouble yourself to put a shirt on, could ya?" The old man asked, stepping out of his room and closing the door behind him, as he walked with labored steps towards the staircase.

"Yeah. Sorry," Michael shrugged. Star would be there any minute. And they were both probably going to have to ask the old man a lot of questions, since he seemed to know a lot more about vampires than he was letting on. Maybe he'd have some kind of excuse or reason for what was happening, and it would turn out to be something stupid. Like maybe they were just having flashbacks from the blood they'd drunk, or something. He'd heard acid could be the same way. Months, even years after you took a hit, it would come back all at once to remind you. And it wasn't like those comics Sam read had all the answers in them.

By the time they'd settled in the kitchen, grandpa had decided to brew a pot of water for instant coffee. Something told him he was going to need it tonight.

"What's this all about? Had a bad dream?" The old man asked warily, pulling open the refrigerator door and pulling out a package of Oreos.

"Uh...kinda. Something like that." Michael licked his lips, looking down at the table and scratching at tiny spot of caked-on food. Maybe a drop of mashed potatoes or something...he couldn't tell. But it suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world, if it meant avoiding eye contact with Grandpa Emerson.

"Go on, then. Tell me about it." The old man shoved an Oreo in his mouth and leaned against the refrigerator, brows furrowed as he waited for Michael to spill the beans.

"Grandpa...you, uh...you know all about vampires, don't you?"

"Not everything."

"How did you know they...how did you know they came to the house?"

The old man shrugged. "Instinct, I guess. Smell of death, maybe. Kinda smelt it on you too for a bit there."

"Uhuh..." He didn't really want to keep talking. It felt as if just voicing his next question would make it somehow more real, make it even worse. But if Star was seeing them too...he just had to make sure they weren't real. He had to.

"So, let's say we killed all of them, right? If...if I started seeing them around places, flashes of them, stuff like that...I mean...what does it mean?"

Grandpa Emerson grunted, crossing the kitchen to grab the screaming kettle from the stove and pouring a hefty amount of boiling water into two cups.

"It means they're not dead, Michael. What kinda stupid question is that?"

Michael's face paled as he pushed away from the table, when there was a sudden knocking at the front door. Shit, he hoped it wasn't them...he didn't have a stake or anything on him, and he definitely wasn't strong enough to take David on anymore...if they really were back...

"Ain't you gonna answer the door? Or are you just gonna stand there playing like a deer in headlights?" The old man grunted, dusting a bit of crumbs from his bathrobe.

"Yeah...sorry..." Michael rushed over towards the front door and steeled himself before yanking it open. A whisper of fabric and the jingling of metal rushed by him before he slammed it back closed.

"Oh god, Michael, I saw them again! Outside!" Star gasped, clutching at her chest as he hurried to lock the door behind her.

"What?!" His eyes widened and Michael darted back towards the kitchen to begin digging through the kitchen drawers. He needed to find something. Anything to protect them. Would a butcher knife work? No, he was sure wood was better...that's what Sam and those stupid Frog brothers always said, whenever they had their little living room meetings and bullshitted about making a living out of clearing out Santa Carla. Maybe...maybe he could break a wooden spoon...

"Michael, boy, get away from that drawer and sit your ass down. What are you getting so worked up about?" Grandpa Emerson demanded, opening another cupboard to pull out an extra cup. "Would've been nice to know you had that girly coming over tonight before I started boiling the water," he grumbled, shuffling the cups around and measuring the water out evenly between them before he reached for a jar of instant coffee on the counter and a spoon.

"They're outside! David and the others!" Star rushed towards Grandpa Emerson, her voice cracking as she panicked, worried tears streaking down her face. "We don't have much time, we-"

"Both of you. Sit down. We're going to talk this out, and we're not going to get our panties in a knot, neither." Grandpa Emerson stated firmly, grabbing a spoon to stir the coffee.

"But-" Michael began to protest before the old man gave him a stern look, and quietly slipped back towards the table to take a seat. Star joined him...and they both felt like small children, for all their trouble, the way the old man was acting towards them.

"So," Grandpa Emerson hobbled towards the table, putting a cup of coffee in front of each teenager and then taking a set in front of them, "tell me when you started seeing them, and what they did when they caught you looking."

Star reached forward to grip the cup that was offered to her, and pulled it close to her chest, nibbling at her bottom lip and looking down, "nothing. They just...disappear..."

The old man then looked at Michael, who shrugged. "Yeah. That's all they do..."

"Uhuh..." Grandpa Emerson took a gulp of coffee and grimaced at the taste. Nowhere near as good as root beer. "You know something? I think they was trying to get you in the same room before they decided to come deal with you two." He leaned forward, "and I think they ain't gonna stop following you until you got your guards down. That's when it's gonna be more than just a look here and there. A lot more. That's the funny thing about vampires. They don't like to let anything go. Especially when they got it in their minds it already belongs to them."

Michael slumped in his chair, scowling down at his cup of coffee. Great. Just what he wanted to hear. He was never going to get away from David and the others. Never going to be through with this bullshit until they got bored and decided to chow down. Fucking. Great.

"So, here's what you're gonna do. When dawn hits, if they still ain't in the house, you're gonna go out to the garage. You're gonna take the keys to my car, and you're gonna get the hell outta Santa Carla. You're gonna drive, and keep driving, until you don't see them no more. Then you're gonna stop at a church, and that's where you stay till nightfall. And you'll start the whole thing over again the next night, because the minute you stay still is the minute they'll get you. When you can't find no churches around, you just drive all day. The more road behind you, the better off you're gonna be. You don't trust no one who can't say a prayer, and you don't let no one know who you are, neither. You understand?"

Each word that fell on Michael's ears was worse than the last. He didn't understand. He just didn't understand any of this.

"How are they even alive?!" He blurted out angrily, pushing himself away from the table and standing up. The old man just watched him calmly, hands clasped over his stomach, an irritated frown on his face.

"Because, somehow, one of you didn't finish the job. If any of them are still alive, ain't no reason they can't figure out a way to bring the others back. So, Michael. Good job. You fought a pack of bloodsuckers, and you got sloppy. Now you're gonna have to start running before they decide to return the favor."

"How..." Star spoke up finally, setting her cup down on the table, "...are we going to pay for gas? Or food? Or anything, if we can't ever stop going?"

The old man sighed, taking a gulp of coffee before he answered, and slamming the cup back onto the table, "there's a few thousand in the dashboard. If you're smart about it, should last you long enough to figure out a way to get more. But you wanna know the truth? I'm only buying you some time. Sooner or later, they're gonna catch up. And it ain't gonna be pretty when it happens, neither. The real reason you're running ain't to keep you safe, it's to protect the rest of us."


	3. Chapter 3: The Barn

Author's notes: Aaaaaand...it begins... Also, flashbacks are pretty much done for now. And I disagree with David's remark about Texas. I love this state.

* * *

 _ **Present Day**_

Blood. The boys lived and died by it, spent each night chasing the flow from one victim to the next. And once it was shared among them, given to those lucky enough to be chosen to be so much more than a meal, but a member of their pack...their family...there was no escaping it. The only thing they could really do was put off the inevitable until the blood got them, and it always would, in the end.

" _I knew one of them would fuck up eventually_ ," Marko turned towards the others as they drove through a gathering mist on the midnight road. Hunting was almost as satisfying as the pay-off, but the game would be coming to an end soon. Marko. David. Paul. Dwayne. They were growing weary with this chase, so tonight David had upped the ante. And it had been so easy, too. Child's play.

 _"Surprised they managed this long,"_ Paul cackled, tossing his head and howling into the night air. On cue, the passengers in the car up ahead gunned their engine and picked up speed.

 _"Easy, Paulie, we don't want them to crash...do we?"_ David chuckled, his eyes twinkling with dark amusement.

 _"Would it make a difference?"_ Dwayne was the first of them to pick up speed, leaning forward with a vicious smirk to match the rest of them. They were just far enough behind to remain unseen in the darkness, yet still close enough to be heard. Tomorrow, they would ride even closer. Much closer.

* * *

Star gripped her steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead with more than a little difficulty. Not long after she'd finished the coffee, a wave of intense nausea hit, and she was struggling to drive in a straight line. Michael didn't seem to be doing much better, the way he was breathing beside her as he shoved a handful of funyuns in his mouth. Probably hoping the chips would help settle his stomach.

When she'd first met him, he was that un-achievable dream. The boy he could never have, because pulling him into the darkness with her would only destroy the very thing that made Michael so enchanting. But after the blood, and after David was dead, she'd tried to leave him behind. Maybe, in a way, to let that spark of light that still lingered inside him continue to burn and grow until the shadows of what she'd led him to faded away in the past. But mostly, because she just wanted to pretend none of it had ever happened...and he was just a reminder.

And maybe it would have worked. They'd almost been able to move on, those first few weeks. But then she started seeing David...his silhouette haunting every street she'd turn on when the sun set, catching glimpses of Marko tapping on her motel window, Paul flitting across a shop doorway, and Dwayne...no games or jokes about it...just standing in front of her until someone would pass him, and he was gone like all the rest. And she'd made that call to Michael, desperately hoping she was simply going insane. Because if she was mad, at least pills could somehow protect her.

Star's eyes darted back up to the road ahead of her, when she'd let it linger too long on Michael's lips. His hair. His chest rising and falling beneath the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. And...for a split second...she could swear, too, that she heard his heart beating, his pulse thrumming a rhythm that both terrified and excited her at the same time. Something...something was wrong...she hadn't felt like this in a very long time.

"Michael..." Her eyes widened as she picked up more speed, nearly pushing the car too much too soon. It wouldn't be a good idea to get anyone's attention right now. They couldn't afford to be pulled over.

"What's wrong?" He looked over at her and set his funyuns aside, scowling at the remaining dregs of coffee in his cup and trying to shake them into his mouth. It was awful stuff. Probably the worst coffee he'd ever had...but he wanted more. Should've bought a couple bottles of water at that gas station.

"I think I'm getting sick," Star shook her head, putting a hand to her cheek and wiping away a bit of sweat that had begun to bead up. How was it that she was sweating if she was so damned cold?

"...Do you need me to drive?" Michael leaned over to touch her forehead, and she almost jerked back when she noticed his own face seemed to be glistening too. Of course, it made sense if they were both coming down with some kind of bug at the same time. They'd been practically attached at the hip for two years, moving together, driving together, sleeping together...though not nearly as intimate as they might have been under other circumstances. Nowadays she could swear he felt more like an older brother than a former lover. Or, more appropriately, a former one night stand. Sometimes it was almost like he was afraid to even touch her, and the looks he'd give her...like he thought at any minute she'd run off alone and leave him to deal with David and the others if they managed to catch up. ' _Michael. Don't you know I only tried to leave that first night so we could get past all this? When are you going to just let it go?'_ She wished she could bring the words to her lips, but somehow she felt they wouldn't help. They'd only start a fight she didn't want to have.

"I think I'll be fine. You need to get some sleep," she frowned, looking ahead at the road as Michael pulled back and settled into his seat. Funny thing was, just a few minutes ago she'd been exhausted. But after that god-awful coffee, she was thrumming with nervous energy. At least it did it's job, she supposed. Was it even possible to get food poisoning from a shitty cup of Folgers, she wondered?

Just to the left of the road, Star's eyes settled on the vague shape of a long-forgotten barn, shabby and probably older than both of them combined. Would it be a good idea to pull over and park there? Hide the car under a bunch of hay? _No._ Star gripped the wheel in front of her tightly, they couldn't stop somewhere like that. It wasn't nearly as safe as a church. And surely they'd find one sooner or later. They just had to drive a bit further, look a little harder.

Michael jerked up, and hastily began to crank down his window.

"Michael, what's-" Star looked over at him and flinched at the sound of dry, painful heaving.

"Do we need to pull over?"

He held back a hand and gestured for her to keep going. They'd already stopped once tonight, doing it a second time was just pushing it. But the retching sounds were making her stomach twist into knots, and Star hastily turned the wheel with a sudden screech, powering through the grass towards the barn they'd just driven by. It wasn't safe. Maybe it wasn't even smart. But they'd been running for two years...one night out in the open wasn't going to kill them. Those bike engines, they were just a mental trick...maybe even delirium setting in from too many hours without getting proper sleep.

Michael pulled back, wiping at his mouth and reaching for the wheel to try and jerk it back towards the road, "what are you doing?!" He demanded, eyes wide and bloodshot from the strain of emptying the contents of his stomach over the side of the car and onto the highway.

"I'm about to pass out. If we don't pull over now and get some sleep, Michael, we're going to crash!" Star insisted, shoving his hand away and picking up speed. The car rumbled and protested through rocks and over swathes of un-trimmed silken grass.

"You're going to get us killed, Star!" Michael argued, trying to take the wheel again.

"If we crash, we're dead. If they catch up, we're dead. Damn it, Michael, I'm going to take a chance with the only choice we've got!" Star snapped back irritably as the barn came into full view. "And it's not like they're close behind. We haven't seen them in weeks," she added, calmly.

Michael gave up, leaning back in his seat and rubbing at his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. We'll stay for a few hours...but we gotta get moving at dawn, okay? We've been doing really good at putting miles behind us lately, and I don't want to screw that up. You remember what grandpa said."

Star agreed. After all, running was what they had learned to do best. Hell, even when Sam and the Frog brothers had attacked the Lost Boys, hadn't they been trying to run away?

"Hey, watch out," Michael indicated a group of deer leaping by, and she just narrowly avoided nailing one of them on the car hood.

"Ugh...I feel _awful_ ," Star whispered as she finally pulled into the large opening that led through to the barn. They'd arrived just in time, because no sooner had she finally managed to kick the engine off, she was passed out in her seat.

Drowsily, Michael leaned over to press Star's hair back from her face and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, "gotta stop by a phone booth somewhere tomorrow...let everyone know we're still alive..." He slurred. It was kind of funny, this was probably the first time he'd kissed her since...well...that night. But now wasn't the time to reminisce, he needed to get out of the car, cover it up with something before...before he fell asleep...those were the last thoughts he had before he finally lost consciousness. And the darkness that overtook them together in that moment was the deepest sleep they'd both had in a very long time.

* * *

 _"I've been dying for a smoke all night,"_ David sighed as he tucked a cigarette between his lips and cupped his hands over it with a lighter to guard the flame from the wind. Texas was such a shit-hole. The weather was unpredictable, and he'd yet to light one cigarette without issue. None of them really liked being away from their cave this long, either. It was just an invitation for others to move into their city and try to claim what wasn't theirs. That was a problem for another day, though. For now, they were still dealing with this one.

"You know, I think the problem was taking on three at once. You ever tried to feed more than one baby without getting shit all over your face?" Paul spoke aloud. They were off their bikes and striding through the field now, so there wasn't much need to communicate through their thoughts. And they didn't have to worry about anyone over-hearing them either.

"Paulie, you sick fuck...why are you feeding shit to babies?" Marko snickered, shoving Paul's shoulder before they were brought to an abrupt stop as they stumbled into Dwayne's back.

"Well, this is convenient," Dwayne remarked as he crossed his arms and nodded towards the barn ahead.

"So...is this it? Are we finishing it tonight?" Marko asked, peeking around from Dwayne's shoulder and digging his claws into the taller vampire's jacket. Dwayne hissed and slapped his hands away irritably.

David shook his head, taking a good long pull of his cigarette and tipping his head back. "No. Not just yet. I still want to have a bit more fun, first...let them really feel the pain. Obviously, I was too easy on them before."

Paul grinned wide when he noticed several deer nearby, grazing. "...Some fun, huh?"

"Oh man, I know that look...step back, boys, Paul's _thinking_ again," David chuckled past a mouthful of curling white smoke as Paul took off towards the herd, his hair flying behind him.

"Wait up!" Marko shouted, giving chase. Dwayne glanced over at David and then back to the others, then shrugged and strode after them at a more than leisurely pace. They had all night, after all. Might as well stretch his legs a bit.


	4. Chapter 4: Deer Games

Author's notes: Pretty gory one, coming up. No animals were hurt in the writing of this chapter. At least, I don't think they were...don't quote me on that.

* * *

For a moment, Michael could swear there were lips brushing against his, long before he was able to summon the strength to rouse himself. He wanted to keep sleeping. God, how he wished he could. But the second awareness came crashing back down over Michael's shoulders, he knew he had to get up and get moving. It wasn't safe to stay in one place too long. And if the feeling of bright warmth on his eyes was anything to judge by, he knew they'd already been asleep far longer than either he or Star planned. But...there was a strange smell tickling his nose. Something...savory. Intriguing. Maybe Star had driven back to the gas station and picked up some breakfast? His tongue snaked out to lick at his lips, where he was greeted by the taste of copper and salt. Still half-dazed, he licked his lips again, not sure whether he liked it...or...

Michael's eyes snapped open and he seized forward, finding himself waking to a nightmare. Entrails strung across the dashboard. Crimson and fur painted over the windshield, lending a reddish hue to the light sunlight that managed to filter through. Blood all over his hands and his shirt, hardly a spot in the car remained un-touched. His eyes quickly slid over to find Star just barely waking, her own tongue darting out to mimic his own, and that was when Michael realized he was still licking his lips.

But worst of all...propped up on top of the steering wheel, staring Star right in the face when she opened her eyes, was a deer head with it's lips torn off in the sick imitation of a grin.

Star gave a strangled cry, scrambling to pull herself out of her seat, when she realized she was still strapped down by a belt. Michael leaned forward to help her unbuckle it, pulling her into his arms and pressing his lips to the top of her head, restraining her from tearing off into the open field outside.

"Shhhh, it's okay. Just a deer. Just a deer..." Michael breathed into her hair, stroking it. At first, she struggled, but gradually she became lax, sobbing into his shoulder.

" _Why_?" She gasped out, gripping his shirt in her fingers. _"Why are they doing this to us?!"_

"Because they're monsters, Star. And we're not." He continued stroking her hair, pulling her even closer. Holding her so desperately tight, neither of them were really sure if he'd ever let go.

Pushing her away just enough so that he could place his hands on each side of her face, Michael looked down into Star's eyes. And if the blood smeared over her forehead, lips, and cheek were anything to judge by...he was pretty sure he was an equally gruesome sight right now. What's more, it was as if the scent of that awful substance was somehow calling to him...begging Michael to lick it off of her cheeks. He hadn't felt this way since...

"I think somehow, some way...one of them got some of David's blood into our coffee last night," he breathed out, the words falling like a hammer blow on both their ears.

"But...but it doesn't just knock you out like that, Michael! It doesn't make you sick, doesn't-"

"Maybe they added something else, too. Drugs. Something to keep us from getting further than we did last night, I don't know. Who gives a shit what they did? Because they're not going to win. They're not. We've been managed this long, so clearly we're doing something right. We just made a dumb mistake last night. It's not going to happen twice." Michael slowly pulled himself away from her, despite the desperate need clawing at his throat to sate himself on the blood. Not that it would turn him. It wasn't human, after all. But giving in now was not only disgusting, but it would only make the Lost Boys that much closer to whatever fucked up end game they had in mind. If anything, they'd made a big mistake today. Because now...Michael was pissed.

With a shaking hand, Star pressed her hair from her face, and leaned back in her seat...glaring at the deer head that still remained perched in front of her. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to watch Bambi again. In a sudden fit of anger, she kicked open her door and grabbed the deer head in her hands, tossing it outside with a yell, as if just by throwing it with all her might she could somehow do the same to David. Then, she took a deep breath and looked back at Michael.

"So..." Star whispered dryly, "you think we have enough baby wipes left to clean this up?"

Michael snorted. "Probably going to have to go back to that gas station...thank god we're not going back to Santa Carla. Grandpa would _kill_ me if he saw this..."

* * *

It really wasn't easy, scrubbing the car down with baby wipes and an old roll of heavy duty paper towels. The interior was pretty much ruined. The likelihood of ever getting the smell of dead deer to go away was nigh on impossible. But they did manage to at least clean off the dashboard and windshield. So if, for some reason, anyone asked any questions...they could just pretend this was the car they took hunting. Either that, or Star was a very bad driver, and had nailed more than one woodland creature on their road trip. The sooner they found a car wash, the better.

As for their clothes, they'd been reluctantly forced to strip down in the barn and use the last of the baby wipes to wash themselves down, though they'd still have to go back to the gas station to do it again, because there was only so much you could do with a bit of disposable cloth drenched in alcohol.

"My coat is shot," Michael grumbled, tossing his green army coat aside onto a bale of damp, rotted hay.

"You've still got your jacket in the back seat, don't you?" Star asked over her shoulder as she got to work buttoning up a red plaid shirt, rolling up the sleeves to give it more of a feminine appeal. Michael watched her dress with a slight smirk. Any other woman, it would look awful on. But he could honestly say somehow, Star always managed to make just about any old rag look pretty damn good. It really sucked having to live by his 'look but don't touch' philosophy. They didn't need the extra complications right now.

"I don't really want to wear it," Michael shrugged, slipping into a fresh pair of jeans and buttoning them up.

"Michael, you're going to be cold if you don't put it on. Just wear it. I'm not asking you to put on the stupid earring," Star spun about to face him, her fists on her hip.

"I'm not cold. I'm fine," he lied, avoiding making eye contact with her as he snatched a black t-shirt out of the back seat.

"Okay, you don't have to put it on right now. But grab it and put it in the front seat with you just in case, okay? I don't want to have to pull over later when you change your mind." Star crossed over to the back seat, reaching just past Michael to grip onto the jacket. And in doing so, she found herself pressed up close against him, her breath catching in her throat. Earlier in the car when he'd been comforting her, she'd been a little too distracted to notice him. But now...god, he was still just as beautiful as the first day she'd seen him, gazing at her across that crowd while she danced to the beat of the sax man.

"I can get it myself," Michael whispered down at her, taking the jacket from Star's hand and smirking, as if he knew what she was thinking.

"Uh...right...right," Star shook her head, flattening out her shirt and plucking at her jeans as if she needed to adjust them, and hadn't just been staring at Michael as if she wanted to spread him between two slices of bread and go to town.

Michael licked his lips, giving her one quick look before he backed away and crossed to the passenger side of the car and yanked the door wide open.

"Better get moving, huh? Daylight's burning," he called back to her, buckling his seat belt and plucking a few stray bits of deer fur from the dashboard. He examined it for a moment with a bitter smirk before closing his eyes and making a wish as he blew them away.

"What?" Star jerked up. "Yeah...yeah...it's burning. You're right...Daylight. Daylight...is...burning." She shook her head, laughing at how stupid she was acting. If their coffee really had been spiked with David's blood, she could blame it on that. Besides, it wasn't like Michael wasn't really handsome. He was. Hell, she still dreamed about those lips, when she wasn't having her routine nightmares about the Lost Boys chasing her and quartering her on Route 66, of course. If, maybe, once in awhile she felt a little awkward him...she was only human. Kind of. That was a topic to worry about on another day...maybe when they weren't just recovering from a blood-soaked slumber in an old barn.

The minute they pulled out of the barn, the sunlight shining full on their faces, it was unbearable. It came as no surprise to either of them when Michael had to fish out his sunglasses from the glove compartment and pass a pair over to Star as well.

If they'd lingered much longer, perhaps taken the time to explore their surroundings, they might have noticed the Lost Boys dangling from the rafters, tucked away in the only shadowed area of the barn, so very close and yet so very far at the same time. Their bikes were parked on the other side of the building.


	5. Chapter 5: I Don't Like Bolo Ties

Author's notes: Funny thing, only after I wrote this did I realized I named the extras after some relatives. Hope they never read this...:\

* * *

"Are you looking after yourself? Eating well? Taking regular showers?"

"Yes, mom. All of the above. Mostly."

"Michael, honey, when are you coming home?"

"I've told you before. So has grandpa. I'm not coming home. Ever. And if I do, you need to lock the door and make sure I can't get inside, because the only way I'm coming back is if they get to me and Star."

"Do you want to talk to Sam?"

"Yeah...sure. Put him on the phone."

Michael leaned an arm against the side of the building as he shifted the receiver from the payphone on his shoulder and watched Star in the store gathering a few odds and ends for the trip. Windex. A hell of a lot more baby wipes. Bottled water. She looked like she was holding up okay. Not shaking anymore, from what he could tell. That was a good sign. If either of them started breaking down, they'd never make it through this.

"Mike? Did you hear me? I said make sure you send me something cool," Sam blurted on the other line, bringing Michael out of his daze.

"What? Sammy...I don't have time to go shopping for knick-knacks right now!"

"It shouldn't take that long, Mike. Just grab something the next place you stop at, and hold onto it until you drive by a post office," Sam protested.

Michael laughed, switching the phone to his other shoulder, "two years on the road, it's always nice to be reminded you're still a dork no matter how long I'm gone."

"And you're still an ass-monkey," Sam retorted right back at him. "Seriously though, Mike...is everything okay? You're still fine? Haven't seen them or nothing in awhile? Cause me and Ed were thinking, maybe there's a way you can throw them off your trail, y'know? Like...light the car on fire or something if you need to. I mean, if you catch a bus after you do it, there's no way they'd go after you. Have you guys thought about maybe just staying in crowds?"

Michael looked back towards Star, who'd just finished paying for their supplies and was tucking a paper sack against her chest to head outside, when she nearly bumped into a guy pulling the door open. He wasn't sure if he liked the look of the dude...and when the man started trying to put the moves on Star, he decided he'd have to cut the phone call shorter than he'd planned.

"Listen, Sam, I think they're catching up with us. Don't worry, though. We're just fine...okay, talk to you later. Bye." Michael hung up the phone abruptly, hardly even registering Sam's last statement before he strode towards the door, eyes trained on Star. Right as he came within earshot of the pair, he realized it was a good idea he'd hung up when he did. The guy was a dick in sheep's clothing. Starched white shirt, brown suede bolo tie to match a pair of dark cowboy boots. It wasn't so much the outfit that screamed douche bag, as the way he held himself. Like he could get star into the back of his truck with a couple of words and a greasy smile.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing all the way out here without a man by her side?" He cooed, stepping just a little too close for comfort. Right as Michael was getting prepared to tell him to back away, Star reared back and stomped her foot on his boot, grinding her heel as hard as she could.

He cursed, shoving her away, and Star just barely managed to recover in time before she almost dropped everything.

"Leave her alone," a man at the counter warned, though he didn't step around to do much else.

The douche-bag in the bolo tie grimaced and lifted up his foot to rub at his tender toes, "I was just trying to be friendly. Didn't ask the bitch to ride my-"

"Star, sweety, what's taking you so long?" Michael growled from behind him, stepping up to hold open the other door for her to step through. She averted her eyes from the asshole and stepped out to wrap an arm around Michael's torso.

"Sorry...'baby', I was just leaving."

The man glanced at Michael and quirked an eyebrow as he gave him a once-over, "nice jacket," he snorted. "Bit hot for that out, ain't it?"

Michael ignored him and let Star lead him back towards the car. If he wanted, Michael could easily take him in a fight. He was tempted to do so, too. Shit...where was all this anger coming from? Maybe...maybe he was still upset about the deer carcass.

"I've got a bad feeling about that asshole," Michael mumbled under his breath.

"Don't be silly, Michael. He can't do anything to us. Let's get going before it gets dark," she looked up at the sky, releasing Michael's torso so she could reach up and tip her sunglasses down slightly.

"I think we slept most of the day away. The sun looks like it's going to go down soon..." Star sighed.

"Then I guess we better get going. I think I'm good to drive," Michael shrugged, taking the keys from Star and striding ahead of her.

"Glad you decided to stop being stupid." Star remarked at his back. He stopped and spun around to face her.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"The jacket. You put the jacket on."

Michael snorted, "it's just clothing. Doesn't mean anything."

"Good to see we're on the same page. It doesn't mean anything. And you know...it really does look good on you," she pulled open the passenger door and slid inside the car.

"I _am_ going to grab a different one when I get the chance, though," Michael insisted as he slammed his car door.

"Speaking of which, you know we're on our last couple hundred, right?" Star asked as she settled herself in her seat and pulled out a couple of bottles of water. By the looks of things, they were in for another long and boring drive. Unfortunately, she could already feel her internal clock shifting. And while she really didn't like the idea of struggling to keep herself awake during daylight hours again, especially the longer time wore on, Star was confident somehow they'd make it through this. After all, they'd been managing for two years. And they had each other to hold themselves back, once the hunger began...surely her memories of it were much worse than the reality. Exaggerations built on the passing of time. She was getting very good at the fine art of denial. That was something she and Michael had in common.

While he drove, Star tried to pretend she couldn't hear his heart beating. And Michael turned on the radio to tune the sound of hers out.

* * *

He watched the couple leave, scowling. They had a pretty nice car. Vintage. All the caked on bits of fur and blood around the hood didn't look too good, though. He glanced over at his pick-up truck where five of his friends were waiting for him to hurry up and grab the beer. Maybe they'd follow those two for a bit, give them a good scare. Wasn't much else to do tonight. But then he remembered he had that stupid party to go to, and decided against it.

Of course, if they happened to be driving in the same direction, well...that just couldn't be helped, could it?

"Hurry the hell up, Tod!" Andrew shouted, banging on the bed of the truck, which only set the others off to do the same until the whole parking lot was ringing with the sound of clanging metal.

"Ah, shut the fuck up, Andy, I'm getting it!" Tod shouted back, heading into the store.

* * *

The sun was down, and already David could feel just how little road Michael and Star had put behind them. With a self-satisfied chuckle, he released his claws from the rafter and sailed down to the earth, landing in a puff of dry dirt and flying bits of yellowed grass. He was always the first up and ready to go. Dwayne usually followed. But Paul and Marko...well...they were lazy fucks.

"C'mon, c'mon, boys!" David shouted towards the rafters, clapping his hands together. "Gotta get a move on! Tonight's gonna be a good one!" He added, turning towards the barn exit and stalking swiftly out.

Marko shifted and groaned, rubbing at his eyes, "I'm tired. I'm hungry. I don't want to chase after them tonight."

Dwayne reached over and gave a firm tug to Marko's curls before flying down to join David, "you heard David. Let's go."

"We've got time to eat, though, don't we? Davey...we haven't had anything in over two days!" Paul pouted, swooping down to the ground with Marko reluctantly on his tail.

David tossed his head back and looked up at the stars, hands tucked into his coat pockets, and a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, I don't see why not. It's about time we had some fun of our own before we finish this. It'll probably take awhile, though, since there aren't many people-" he was suddenly cut off by the sound of a truck motoring down the road, about five guys screaming and hollering in the back as they toasted their beers to the tune of a loud country song blasting from inside.

"Man, talk about timing," Marko snickered as he threw an arm around Dwayne's shoulders and shook him lightly. "You see what I see?" He asked, looking up at the taller vampire. Dwayne just rolled his eyes in response.

"We taking the bikes, then?" Paul asked, crossing his arms.

"No...I think I'd like to get some exercise tonight," David decided, taking to the air. "And they'll be easier to carry!"

* * *

"You sure you seen em turn down this way, Tod?" Andy shouted from the bed, laughing as a bump in the road jostled and shook the bed until Bernie nearly fell out.

"Careful there, chief, don't wanna have to scoop your ass off the road tonight!" Lennie crowed, digging a can of beer out of the cooler and shaking droplets of water from his hand.

"Hey! I think I see them up ahead!" Tod shouted out of his window, giving them a thumbs-up.

"Hold up, what are you planning on doing?" Bernie demanded, crawling forward and bracing himself on the bed of the truck after his near accident.

"Just gonna scare them a bit. Get them to pull over...maybe feel the girl up while you hold him down..." Tod shouted back to them, slamming down a beer as he was forced to swerve back into the right lane when another driver came into view driving straight for them.

"Close one," he sighed. He was so focused on that close call, he didn't notice the figure standing in the road right ahead of him until it was too late.


	6. Chapter 6: Roadkill

Author's notes: Bet you guys are wondering about that issue with them always being cold, huh? Bet you want me to answer that question, don't you? I guess...you'll just have to wait...-cue evil laughter-

* * *

Shattered specks of glass on tarmac, glittering like an ocean of brilliant white stars. That was what greeted Tod as he woke, reaching a desperate bloodied hand for the sky, crying out for aid he knew would never come. In that universe of glass and blackened road stepped a man with stringy blonde hair. And in his delirium, Tod wondered whether this was some forgotten archangel or the devil himself. When the man grinned down at him with eyes brighter than flying sparks, he realized it was definitely the latter. So, with nothing left to do, Tod screamed.

* * *

"It's so empty out here," Star finally broke the silence. For several minutes they'd simply sat together in the car together, listening to the radio station as it struggled to maintain a solid signal in-between bursts of static and classic Tejano music. Sometimes they could go hours without saying anything, and she'd find lights to train her eyes on as a distraction and make the time go by faster. But tonight, the silence was deafening.

"You were the one who wanted to take this road."

"Michael, I'm not trying to blame you. I'm just making conversation." Star reached under her seat to pull out her shawl. There were a few spots of blood on it, but surprisingly not much more than that, momentarily distracted from the road ahead of them.

"Ah...right. Sorry. I'm just a bit stressed...that deer in the car, that asshole at the gas station...the fact that we both just drank fucking vampire blood _again_..."

"Yeah. I know." Star wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and settled back in her seat. The sooner they found a church to hide in for awhile, the better. All of this driving was making her stir crazy. And a part of her hoped that maybe, somehow, being somewhere surrounded with crosses and holy objects, she'd be able to ignore the hunger she could already feel begin to return and gnaw at the pit of her stomach.

It was kind of funny, looking back on the first time; in the beginning she'd just thought she was coming down with some kind of bug. She could still remember the way David smiled at her as he pressed the bottle to her lips, promised her a night she wouldn't forget. Of course, Star really had no idea what that entailed. She was just swept away by the attention from this crazy stranger with his bike and attitude. God, how cliche. And really, pretty damn stupid, even if he hadn't turned out to be a vampire. Maybe she wasn't really that much older now, but Star could confidently say she felt like she'd aged a decade in that one summer she'd thought herself at the gates of heaven before she was suddenly drug through hell. At least she could say Laddie was safe. From the few calls she'd made to his family once in awhile, it seemed like The Lost Boys had decided to leave him alone.

Maybe this time she'd do things differently. Though, honestly, Star had no clue what that would be. The only thing she could do was fight back, when they decided they were tired of the chase. Because, really, it seemed less and less likely that she and Michael were really getting any further unless David was _letting_ them. The deer in the car was evidence enough of that.

Fight. Back. How would she even begin? And would it really do her or Michael any good?

"What are you thinking about?" Michael quietly interrupted Star's thoughts, pressing a free hand to her shoulder and messaging it in small, gentle strokes. It felt nice. Even though neither of them could let anything come from these little gestures of intimacy they offered each other in comfort, Star couldn't deny she very much enjoyed them.

"Nothing," Star shook her head, "I'm not thinking of anything."

"Really?" He sounded doubtful. "You've got that sad look on your face you always get when we talk about David. Just don't, Star. Live in the moment. It's a lot easier that way."

"Gosh. When did _you_ get so deep?" She teased.

Michael rolled his eyes, "okay, make jokes. If that's what gets you through the night, go ahead." He let his hand fall from her shoulder and re-adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

"I wasn't thinking of David," Star insisted, quietly.

"Okay. You weren't thinking of David. I give up. You win."

"No, I mean it...I was..." She looked out the window and then back towards Michael with a slight teasing smile playing on her lips, "I was thinking about that guy back at the gas station. He seemed pretty fun."

"..."

"Michael?"

"You want me to turn back and drop you off? Let you two screw around a bit?" He made as if to turn the wheel and Star leaned over to grab it, laughing.

"Alright! I was thinking of David! Are you happy?" She kept her hand on his, not quite meeting Michael's eyes (because he was still focused on the road ahead).

Michael feigned a sigh, "and I thought you were thinking about _me_."

"...What?"

"I said-"

Their flirting was abruptly cut short by the sound of a loud screech on the roof of the car, followed by several thumps as if someone was stomping around, and finally, Michael was forced to slam on the breaks by the sight of a bloodied and mangled body rolling onto the hood. The car nearly spiraled out of control in the process, dragging white streaks and swathes of white smoke over the road, and sending spatters of mud into the air as the back wheels just barely carved out a hunk of ground just to the right of the shoulder.

" **MICHAEL!** " Star yelled, bracing herself against her door.

* * *

She decided to stay in the car and recover her breath, while Michael got out of the car and paced. Once the smoke had settled, and the engine was killed, he'd become livid. Maybe at the situation. Maybe at the Lost Boys, because there was no doubt in his mind they were the reason a body had come crashing down on the car hood and nearly gotten them killed. If they could be killed...maybe he was mad at a combination of things. Hell, he was even mad at the fact that he was mad!

"Michael..." Star called out, slowly pushing open her car door and putting shaky feet to the ground.

"What? What is it?" He turned around from his position at the back of the car, exasperated and red in the face as he ran his hands through his hair and pressed them to the side of his head.

Star nodded towards the body that had fallen several dozen feet behind them, twisted and bloodied, limbs facing at what looked like impossibly painful angles, were the man in question still alive.

"He's dead, Star! What do you want me to do about it?!"

"I want you to make sure..." She trailed off, looking down at her feet.

"Don't do this," Michael ground out, letting his hands fall to his sides.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't act like I'm about to fucking hit you! Stop staring at the ground like that, Star! Look at _me_!"

She tossed her hair back, blinking several times as she met his gaze. "I know you're not going to hit me, Michael."

"Well..." He sighed, slowly crossing around to her side of the car until he was standing just a few feet away from her, his hands held out, "that's how you make me feel when you do that, okay? I'd never hit a woman. And...I'd never hit _you_."

"We're a bit of a mess, aren't we?" Her lips twitched, whether it was an attempt to smile or frown, he couldn't tell.

"Yeah...we are. But I'll check the body, if that's what you really want me to do."

"It is."

"Even though it's stupid, and that's probably what they want...ten to one, they're just waiting for me to walk right over there so they can fly down and grab us both-"

"Just check on him, Michael. Please. I want to make sure. I need to know."

He took Star's hands into his and gave them a gentle squeeze before reluctantly pulling away and beginning the seemingly endless walk towards the twisted corpse lying on the ground. In the last two years, other than a scare here or there...a message scrawled on the car in the morning, a quick glimpse of the boys just outside of a church window, maybe some taunting laughter in the air...there'd been relatively little of the Lost Boys in their lives. Some nights, Michael could almost make himself believe he'd simply become a gypsy and joined Star on the open road for the hell of it. But all it took was the last two days to remind him that he was just fooling himself. Maybe this wouldn't have happened tonight if he hadn't forgotten to get gas the day before...he couldn't honestly say it wouldn't have happened eventually.

When he knelt beside the body, he could just barely make out a few details about the man's identity. Namely the bolo tie. Everything else was too torn up and bloodied to really tell. ' _Fuck. What kind of sick message is this?!'_ He screwed up his courage and gingerly leaned down to press two fingers against the man's neck, and waited. He counted to five. Nothing. And then, just as he was about to retrieve his fingers and call it quits, there was the gentle flutter of something beneath the skin...fading...but...it was there. A pulse.

And then he really looked at the man lying in front of him, took it all in. The combination of the smell of the blood, and the feel of a dying life beneath his hand...god, he hated to think about it. Because...because it reminded him of that night on the beach. When David and the others had murdered, drank their fill, played games with their meals while he was practically forced to watch. And maybe if he hadn't been through this before, it wouldn't affect him much as it did now, but he felt as if he was being pulled down towards the man's neck...dragged by an insanely heavy weight on his back. he wanted to fight it. He really wanted to. He knew he needed to, anyway. But, oh god...it just smelled so good...and if the deer blood he'd tasted on his lips earlier had been anything to judge by, Michael just knew this would taste a thousand times better. A hundred thousand. A million...

 _"Michael,"_ a gentle whisper pressed against him. Was it David? Was it Star? He couldn't tell. He didn't care, anyway. He was too hungry too listen. He was too tired to fight it.

 _"Michael!"_

He ignored the voice and pulled his lips back, ran his tongue along his teeth...his gums ached unbearably. Something intense was about to happen, and he wasn't exactly sure what, because he was too far gone to really think right now. A thrill ran down his spine at the thought...that whatever was happening right now, he didn't know, but he was going to love it...

And then he was suddenly jerked back to himself by an intense pain in his arm. Michael cried out, shaking his head and pushing himself back away from the body in horror, falling in a heap on top of Star, who's mouth was embedded deep in his sleeve. She was desperately clinging to him, eyes wide in fear and anger.

"Star..." Michael shook his head, as she finally pulled away and wiped a bit of drool from her mouth, smiling sheepishly. She hadn't broken the skin, but it still fucking hurt. Which was just as well, when he realized what she'd just stopped him from doing.

"You here? You back with me?" She asked, climbing out from beneath him and pressing a hand to Michael's forehead.

"You sure know how to get a guy's attention," Michael snorted.

"I think maybe..." Star licked her lips, "you were right. We should have stayed in the car."

At that moment, crouched together beside the bloodied man, who had finally taken his last breath...Star and Michael laughed. They weren't really sure why...but they definitely needed it. And when the laughter finally faded into short, soft gasps between them, there didn't seem to be much else to do but pull each other in for a deep, breathless kiss. After all, who knew if they'd ever get a second chance like this?

* * *

" _Ohhhhh, so close!_ " Marko snapped his fingers, an exaggerated expression of disappointment on his face. He wasn't too terribly upset, though. This meant he was still in the running on the bet. Whether Michael or Star would cave first. Because sooner or later, one of them was going to.

 _"This doesn't count. This doesn't count. She butted in! I should've won!"_ Paul protested, throwing his hands up in the air.

They were all safely hidden above in the darkness, shadowed by David's gentle urging in Star's and Michael's minds not look up. Now that they'd finally gotten some of his blood in them, it was far easier to make little subtle suggestions to sway them. Like convincing Star it was a good idea to check on a dead man covered in blood, when that was the last thing either of them should be within a hundred feet of if they expected to last very long. But somehow she'd managed to summon the strength to keep Michael from the prize. She'd definitely changed. There was no doubt about that.

 _"So, what's the plan now?"_ Dwayne turned towards David, not too terribly surprised to see a very slight twist in their leader's lips. He was getting irritated...probably didn't intend to drag it out too much longer, if the kids didn't give in. But that was just as well. His bet was on David losing his temper...so Dwayne was fairly certain he was going to win in the long run.

 _"We'll just have to step it up a little,"_ David decided.

 _"Waste of a good meal..."_ Marko looked down at the body, mournfully. A dead one was nowhere near as good as a living, thrashing victim.

David focused his gaze on the pair below, that timeless smug grin appearing on his face, _"sweet dreams..."_ And he urged the thought to enter both of their minds, just subtly enough to make them pull away from their kiss and speed up their progress back to the 'safety' of the car. What a joke. The only way they'd ever truly be safe was the night they finally gave in. Frankly, he could take them whenever he wanted, but David wanted to be sure they both knew their places before they were finally brought back into the family, where they belonged. If a bit of psychological torture was what it took, then so be it.


	7. Chapter 7: Get Me to the Church

Author's notes: Don't bother trying to find Leddings on a map. It's a fictional town set in the Giddings/Lexington area around Lee county, if you absolutely have to visualize the geography...which is kind of weird, by the way. Also, please be advised that naughtiness does follow in this chapter in various combinations. There's also dubious dream consent. Okay, I lied. It's definitely not consensual at all. If this offends you, just skip that part and pretend David did bad things to everybody, which really isn't too hard to believe.

* * *

When the 'You are now entering Leddings, Texas' sign came into view, Michael was relieved to note out of the corner of his eye that there was no foreboding greeting on the other side, or disturbing statistics about the death count there. Hopefully it stayed that way. Not that he could honestly say this place looked like the sort of town that would encourage tagging, judging by the quaint charm practically oozing from the gingerbread storefronts and Americana ghost signs peeking through old coats of glossy paint.

"Almost there," he stated the obvious, pulling down a narrow street. Now all they had to do was find a local church. Not too hard. There were usually a dozen or so in towns like this. The real trick was finding one that was open all hours of the day and night. It wouldn't do them any good if they had to wait until sun-up and leave at sun-down, when they truly needed the shelter.

"What about that place?" Star indicated a tall building in the town square surrounded by pillars and monuments of various historical figures.

"That's the courthouse."

"Are you sure? How can you tell?"

"The sign at the front that says 'courthouse' was what tipped me off."

Star squinted, leaning out of her window to get a better look, "oh...I see..."

"Hold on, I think I see one," Michael nodded towards a small white building tucked on the very corner of one street, surrounded by patches of verdant green grass and smatterings of wild flowers tickling at the foundation. The lights were on, so that was a good sign, even if it looked like more money could have been put into keeping the place in shape.

Star smiled dreamily at Michael, slapping a hand on his knee, "let's get married."

"What?!" Michael blurted out, panicking and practically slamming his foot on the brakes.

Star laughed, pulling her hand away, "I was just kidding. Come on, hurry up and park so we get go inside."

By the time they'd pulled into one of the few parking spaces just outside of the church, Michael had recovered enough to complain. "That. Wasn't. Funny."

Star tossed her hair and smiled, pulling at his arm as she led him towards the church, "really? I thought it was hilarious."

"What if I'd said yes, huh?"

"...Okay, _that's_ not funny, Michael."

His own amusement was short-lived as they drew closer to the front entrance. Like some strange compulsion was driving his feet to back-pedal, almost against his will, and it took no small amount of effort to steel himself and take hold of the handle.

"...Michael..." Star's voice quavered a little, and she pressed her hand on top of his. "I...I don't want to go inside."

"You too?" He turned to look at her, frowning slightly. It wouldn't do them any good to drive all the way here if they weren't going to go inside. And it wouldn't do them any good to stay out in the open like this, either.

"Maybe it's the blood," she pulled her hand away to rub at her arms. "But the more I think about actually going in there, the...the colder I feel. It's like this place is sucking me dry..."

He couldn't honestly say he didn't feel the same way, but a stubborn voice in his mind told him this was probably just a trick of David's. Somehow an illusion, to keep them from pressing forward. Because if they were in the church, well, they were that much closer to beating him at his suck fucking game. After all, it was one place he definitely couldn't follow.

"We'll go in together, you and me," he reached out to grab her hand again, and slowly pushed the door open. But the minute the light inside the building came pouring out, an intense wave of nausea overtook him. Even worse than when they'd been driving the night before, and that shit David put in their coffee forced them to make the emergency pit stop at that barn.

"Oh my god..." Star used her free hand to claw at her stomach, whimpering. "We can't go in! _We can't!_ " She hissed out those last words, panicking more and more as she tried to pull herself away. But Michael held onto her hand and stepped inside the church anyway. If he had to be strong for him when the hunger almost destroyed his will, then he'd do the same for her. That was the only way they would beat this thing.

" _Please, Michael! Don't make me go! Don't make me!_ " Star was pleading, practically crying now as she began to scratch and claw at his arm, tears dripping down her cheeks. But he knew it wasn't her talking, it was the monster growing inside. The part that she had no control over.

"We don't have a choice, Star." Michael squeezed his eyes shut tight and pulled her inside, slamming the door behind her with his foot before she could get away and run off to the 'safety' of the darkness outside. And with that, it was as if a tension snapped inside both of them. Though he still felt sick to his stomach, and colder even than he'd been for the last two years...he felt...relieved. Safe. Protected.

Star stopped fighting, and pulled herself in close to his chest, wrapping her arms around him and whimpering, " _god, we're a mess_..."

Thankfully, it didn't look like there was anyone inside to witness their strange performance. Not that it would matter. Michael didn't give a shit what they looked like right now, he was just glad to have won another very small victory over David. But it was a little awkward having her so close, pressed up against him...he was pretty sure it might be a good idea if they slept on different pews tonight...at least, until little Michael decided to take a nap...

Star's eyes widened and she pulled away from him, looking up into his eyes, "Michael! In a **_church_**?!"

"Well...I can't just tell it what to do, Star! Whenever I try, it doesn't listen to me!" He protested, face growing furiously red.

* * *

After their failed attempt to force Michael and Star to dine out, the boys had returned to the old barn to gather their bikes, with several hours remaining to pursue their quarries. The fresh kills had helped to calm them a little, re-build their patience until David decided on their next move. Which wouldn't be too long in the making, by the looks of the smirk on his face as he powered down the road a head of the others.

 _"So...mind games, huh? I like that. Can I-"_ Paul began to speak, cut off by a quick warning glance from David ahead of him.

 _"You always ruin it when I let you have a go at shit like this. No, Paul. You can play nice with Marko and Dwayne tonight if you're really that hard up."_

 _"...I'm not fucking him,"_ Dwayne insisted flatly. _"He's loud."_

 _"And he doesn't play fair,"_ Marko added, shaking his head.

 _"I thought you loved that about me. It's part of my boyish charm..."_

 _"Howling and biting down hard on whatever the fuck is in front of your face right in the middle of it isn't charming."_ Dwayne would prefer to not have this conversation at all. Everyone knew what Paul was like. That was exactly why the only time he was allowed to get laid was when he was eating. And only who he was eating.

 _"You sure Michael's gonna go for whatever you've got in mind, Davey? It's not going to just make him madder?"_ Marko asked, doubtfully.

David chuckled, _"it's only a dream, Marko. The only person he can blame is himself when he wakes up. All I'm doing is giving him a few nudges here and there..."_

 _"Pretty sure he doesn't like dick."_ Dwayne, the voice of reason, as usual.

 _"Pretty sure that isn't up to him anymore,"_ David shrugged.

 _"What about Star?"_ Paul joined in. " _Gonna do anything to her? Can I at least-"_

A resounding mental 'no' rang throughout the boy's minds.

 _"Don't worry. I'm going to make sure she has some play-time too. Wouldn't want her to feel left out, after all..."_ David knew without a doubt this would probably be the most interesting experience Star and Michael would ever have. And somehow, he knew it would push them just a little bit closer to the edge too.

 _"Okay, so I know Paul can't do anything...but can I watch?"_ Marko asked hopefully.

 _"Do whatever you want. Actually...no, wait, keep Paul out of trouble."_

 _"Why can't Dwayne?!"_

 _"Because I'm not nice about it, remember?"_ Dwayne wasn't joking. He wasn't afraid to put Paul in his place.

* * *

They didn't immediately fall asleep. Neither of them was very tired, after sleeping most of the day away. And it took several tries, testing each pew, switching places...tossing, turning, until they'd both finally found themselves (reluctantly) in a tangle of limbs on the ground between a pair of benches, just shy of a small vent pumping heat into the building. Despite Michael's uncomfortable issue downstairs, they'd just gotten so used to sleeping close together. It was comforting. Made them feel that much safer. Eventually, though... _finally..._ at just about dawn, both Michael and Star were finally able to fall asleep.

And when the old priest finally hobbled into the building, he cast one look at the pair lying on the ground, and walked on by to fetch a heavy blanket to cover them. Because anyone who found themselves sleeping between two church pews probably needed it the most. He'd come back and bother them later, after service. Luckily, weekday congregations rarely went past the astronomical number of ten.

"Poor kids," he rasped when he settled the dark green fleece on top of them, shaking his head.

* * *

She pressed her cheek against a dark shoulder, breathing in the scent of salt and smoke, simply enjoying the moment. One among many. It was these few instances with David that she didn't fear him, fear what he was or what he had tried to make her into. The clock was ticking, now, and she knew eventually the ride would end. When it did, he would either look at her as if she meant nothing...or everything. David was like that. Star could never predict his moods.

"Do you miss these nights, Star?" His soft whisper rang out, somehow carrying above the sound of the bike and the wind whipping at her hair. She didn't understand the question.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you miss these nights, when we used to ride together? The boys, you...and me?" He sounded almost feral, growling out that last word. And she hated how it made her shiver. This wasn't the sweet masked David she pretended to know, the one he'd used to trick her into falling into their group...cajoled her with, when he was just about to strip it away and reveal the real monster beneath.

"I don't understand..."

"Oh, I bet you don't. This is a memory, Star...just a memory."

And at the very back of her mind, awareness clawed forward, tickling at her eyes, scratching at her throat until she was nearly in tears, trying to push herself away. It wasn't a very smart thing to do, on the back of a moving motorcycle. Star yelped, lunging forward again to cling tighter to David's back and keep herself from falling, crashing into a million bloodied pieces on the ground. No longer a girl, or half a monster, but an unfinished puzzle. Unfinished...that's what she was. Neither one thing or the other...and David was back to remind her, David...the monster beneath the mask.

" _Let me go!_ " She hissed, forcing herself to summon the inner strength she'd gathered at Michael's side.

"I'm not holding you, Star..." David laughed, and she was suddenly pulled away. Pulled away into the night air, dangling by an invisible chord of wind, as it wrapped about her torso and plucked at her clothes, stripping them away in pieces...and she was tumbling now, tumbling into a familiar mattress, pressed close to David once more and crying out his name.

"David...Please!" She shrieked, digging her nails into his back and kicking her legs out as he pressed himself up against her, looking down with a fanged smile, glowing eyes, and sinister sneer.

"Do you miss these nights, Star?" He taunted again. And he drove into her. She didn't know if it was real, if it was a dream, a memory, a nightmare...but she felt it all the same. And she hated herself for loving it. She hated herself for the thrills of pleasure running down her spine to her toes, heating her skin like she couldn't even begin to remember. She was warm. Hot. And god...it was like she'd never been cold in the last few years, and it felt so right, being here with David in her arms. Or perhaps, her in his.

"Why won't you let us go?!" She shrieked, pulling her arms from around his back and clawing at the mattress beneath her. She could feel herself losing control, she could feel herself losing...herself. And as they came together again, her throat was raw from the screaming, from the pain and the pleasure she didn't want.

"How can I let you go, Star?" He taunted, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers, biting, digging into the flesh of her mouth until blood dripped from around it, trickling from her chin and onto her neck in a sticky mess.

 _"We're one and the same," he gr_ owled in her mind. And in that moment, she hated him. But even more, she hated herself.

* * *

"Mike!" Sam shouted, dashing into Michael's room as he set his weights on the ground and snatched a towel from his bed to mop up the sweat that had beaded on his face.

"What?"

"Mike! I need you to look in my closet!"

"...Look, Sam, there's nothing to be afraid of in there if you just come out of it," Michael's lips twisted into a half-smirk and he tossed his towel back on his mattress.

"...I mean it, Mike! There's a monster in my closet!" Sam protested, grabbing his brothers arm and yanking at it. Michael rolled his eyes and followed him, reluctantly.

"Sam, there's no such thing as-"

"Monsters?" A hiss emanated from Sam's room, and the smaller Emerson cowered behind his brother, pressing against Michael's back all the while to urge him closer to the horror beyond.

"Sam!" Michael shouted, twisting to try and get around him, but when he turned away from the door, Sam was gone. And instead, he was faced with the sight of several figures dripping with blood. One of them had the scalp where his mohawk had once been dangling behind his neck in a garish display. The victims of the Lost Boys, the surf nazis he'd seen murdered on the beach. Michael's eyes widened in terror and he backed away from them, stumbling, tripping into the doorway of Sam's room, when it slammed in front of him.

"You don't need to be afraid of monsters, Michael," the same horrific voice again in Michael's ear, a tongue darting out to lick his neck. He shivered in disgust, and...something else. He didn't even want to begin to consider the implications of exactly what it was. He turned around to face it, and wasn't too surprised to see David standing in front of him, in all his vampiric glory.

"Come home, Michael." David licked his lips, reaching to place a clawed hand on Michael's cheek and dig his claws into the skin, tearing at it.

Michael shrieked, throwing out his fists, kicking, trying to do whatever he could to destroy this thing in front of him brought back from the brink of death, and somehow even more terrifying than it was before.

"Leave us alone!" He shouted, surging forward and pressing his hands to David's shoulders, throwing him back onto Sam's bed. David merely watched him, gazed at him with an expression in his eyes that went beyond mere amusement or hunger. Michael did not. Like. That. Look.

"What do you want to do now, Michael?" David quirked an eyebrow, propping himself up on his elbows.

"I want to kill you." Michael stated flatly.

"Oh? Then just try it." The monster taunted back, tossing his head and laughing.

And Michael didn't need another invitation to throw himself forward in an attempt to claw at, tear at, bite, destroy every single piece of David he could get his hands on. But the clawing turned into caresses against his will, the tearing only managed to rip away David's clothes, the biting became kissing. He was more than a little confused, and without a doubt more than a little terrified. He wasn't sure exactly what was happening, as David twisted and turned beneath him, pushing at Michael until he was the one pinned to the mattress.

"S...Stop..." Michael gasped, angrily, trying his best to push David away. But all of his strength had left him. What the fuck was happening?!

"Still think there's no such thing as monsters?" David smirked, licking a trail down Michael's neck. Somehow, his clothing had disappeared, and he was pressed bare against his tormentor. If this was the hell David's blood promised them, Michael would gladly stake himself before he even got the chance to make his first kill.

"Get off me!" Michael cried out, as the vampire began to grind against him, forcing whimpers and cries from the boy's unwilling mouth. This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't the kind of thing he'd ever enjoy! So what the fuck was happening to him?!

And when David pressed Michael further up the bed, nipping a trail of kisses along his chest, the boy cursed at him. Cursed and cried, until David was somehow inside him before he even realized it, driving Michael to horrific heights of pleasure he never thought he wanted. And when he finally came crashing back to earth, broken and sobbing, David pulled away with a very satisfied smirk, giving him a swift pat on the cheek.

"See you tonight, Mikey," he taunted, licking Michael's blood away from his lips.


	8. Chapter 8: Duck, Duck-no, wait

Author's notes: Coming down from yesterday's slightly dirtier chapter with something a little more light-hearted, I'd just like to mention geese are some of the meanest bastards I've ever met. None of them were hurt in the writing of this chapter, but I wouldn't be too upset if they were...

* * *

It was 12:15 in the afternoon when Michael felt a hand gently pressing into his shoulder to rouse him. The intense weight of his limbs and eyelids might have forced him back into the comfortable abyss of sleep throughout the remaining hours of the day, but that homo-erotic fuckfest he'd just been a party to in his nightmare was enough of a reason for him to seize forward into a seated position, completely alert. He found himself gazing directly into the bleary eyes of an old priest.

"I don't mind you two sleeping here for the day, son, but sister Rose has to sweep between the pews," the old man had a gentle smile and a soft voice. It made the scent of blood pumping just beneath the skin of his wrinkled neck all the more alluring. He could swear the skin was so translucent, his veins practically popped up and begged to be torn open.

 _Shit!_ Michael turned his face away from the priest's tempting jugular, which was just as well. If he lost control right now and killed someone...in a church...he'd probably immediately burst into flames afterwards.

"Star," the young man gave his sleeping companion a gentle shake. Judging by the way she reacted, lurching up with a gasp, eyes wide and dilated, he had no doubts in his mind she'd had a similarly upsetting nightmare of her own.

If David really did enter his dream, and Star's as well, the implications were terrifying. It meant they were never truly free from him at any given point...but at least it also meant Michael didn't have any unknown pent-up urges lurking in his subconscious for a rough ride on David's dick. So, at least there was that. Small comfort though it may be.

"Now, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, but give us a few hours to set the place to rights. Today's cleaning day," the priest spoke again, almost apologetic. He'd been reluctant to wake them both, as exhausted as they must be to have slept so late.

Star squeezed tightly to Michael's hand at her side, rubbing and stroking at his rhythm to the tune of the old man's pulse. Only three days in, and they had already been pushed near the brink of their control. Of that much, Michael was certain.

"Th...thank you, father..." Michael mumbled under his breath, glancing down at the rough blanket that had been covering his and Star's legs. It didn't really provide any warmth, but the old man couldn't know that. The gesture in itself was comforting.

"Come back at around four, and we can have a nice talk," the priest patted Michael on his shoulder and then slowly stood up, his joints cracking in the process. The man couldn't have been less than seventy, by the look of things. He probably wouldn't taste too good, anyway.

* * *

It was a struggle to drag themselves out of the building, neither of them feeling too terribly motivated to move very far. But once they were out the door, at least the nausea and dizziness disappeared. And Michael was able to steel himself to lead Star towards the car, so they could perhaps try to drive a little bit further, maybe even into the next town and onward to the next church. Maybe one step further away from the Lost Boys.

When they approached the Ford Fairlane, Michael felt a sudden weight in the pit of his stomach. Four very familiar bikes surrounded it. Two on the side, one at the front, and one at the rear. And to top it off, the car tires had been slashed to ribbons. There was no fucking way that thing was getting them out of town tonight...and the message was pretty clear. One way or another, even if they managed to last another day or so, the road for Michael and Star ended here.

"Michael..." Star gripped at his jacket, as she pressed into his side and tucker her face against Michael's shoulder.

"...God damn it..." Michael growled, and he knew very well it was not a sound he should be making. It was deep. Gravelly. And beneath the surface, there was a disturbing level of rage that seemed to be bubbling over inside him. The more he thought about it, the longer he glared at those fucking bikes, the faster his heart began to race in his chest, and the angrier he became.

"It's okay, it's okay," Star pulled away from him, reaching up to Michael's chin with both hands and pulling his face until they were forehead to forehead, eyes looking into each others. Soulful brown and ocean blue. "They can't get to us, as long as we're always in the church when the sun goes down. They can't get to us, Michael, do you hear me?" She breathed deep, gasping out the words against his lips, trying to center him. And, little by little, it worked.

He panted against her, a smirk finally beginning to tug at his mouth, and he drew his arms up around her torso, where his hands seemed to fit so perfectly.

"Thanks," Michael sighed against her lips, slowly (and very reluctantly) pulling away to look back at the car. He was still fucking mad, but he'd at least calmed down enough not to go on a rampage. Shit, was this how he was always going to be, now? Angry, and constantly on the verge of losing control of himself? It was a wonder Star could even put up with him.

"Michael...I think maybe we have a _bigger_ problem than the car right now..." Star turned her head away to gaze out across the street where a woman was walking with a stroller, fanning at her face with a paperback novel.

"Yeah?" He followed her eyes, licking his lips.

"If we don't do something about it...soon...I don't think either you or I are going to be able to handle the hunger the next time it takes control. We've got to figure something out," she sighed, sliding her hands up to his and pulling them from around her waist.

Michael nodded. She was right, of course. The fact that he was actively looking at a young mother and baby like they were a five course dinner was evidence enough of that. He dug into his jacket pocket to pull out his sunglasses and push them up on his face to guard against the harsh glare of the sun bearing down on them, retrieving Star's own from his other pocket and passing them to her. She immediately mimicked him, after snatching them away.

"What do you think we should do?" Michael crossed his arms, "run a job on the local clinic and raid their blood supply? Yeah, I can see that working out real well..."

"Don't be an ass. Remember the deer in the car? I _know_ you got some blood in your mouth. I did, too. I think...maybe...animals might work. At least until we find a better solution...something else..."

"Something else?"

"Okay, fine," Star crossed her arms as well, stubbornly glaring at him and giving Michael a taste of his own moody medicine, " _you_ tell me what we should do, Michael."

"I think..." Michael paused, "I think...we should do that."

"Do what?"

"I think we should find some animals..." He wrinkled his nose at the thought, but really, it was better than just sitting by and waiting until the hunger got so intense that he grabbed the nearest passerby for a quick snack.

* * *

Somehow, despite his intense exhaustion, which was only getting worse the longer the sun was out, Michael managed to begin walking with Star at his side. Down one street. Two. Three. An hour. Even longer...Until there were less and less buildings, and more and more trees. He wracked his brain all the while, trying to remember exactly what he'd seen along the way when he was pulling into town the previous evening, and couldn't recall spotting even one cow grazing in a pasture, or a horse tucked away behind a copse of trees.

The combination of the sun, the scent of wet grass, the sound of bugs nestling in the soil beneath their feet, Michael felt like his senses were on assault, and he was quickly developing a migraine. The kind he'd usually get if he went too long without eating actual food. Yet, he wasn't hungry...not in the same way.

"Micheal!" Star shouted, pulling him from his thoughts as she dashed up ahead of him with a sudden burst of energy he hadn't expected she had in her. He squinted ahead, pulling down his sunglasses just slightly so he could discern what had her so excited. Just up ahead, there was a very small pond, and on the surface of it...a large flock of the most hideous geese he'd ever seen, comfortably napping. Well, it wasn't _perfect,_ but fuck...it was better than nothing.

When she just reached the shore of the pond, Star had stripped off her shirt and tossed it aside, before quickly getting to work on her jeans.

"Star, what the hell are you doing?!" Michael blurted, running towards her.

"I don't want to get my clothes wet. I don't have any more shirts," Star tossed her hair over her shoulder, grinning back at him. She had a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she shimmied out of the hip-hugging denim and took mincing steps into the water, goosebumps flaring up on her arms as she shivered from the sudden shock of chill brushing against her feet.

"What if someone's watching?!" Michael looked over his shoulder nervously, though he knew there'd be no one else behind him. They were a good half mile away from the road at this point.

"Then I guess they'll get a good show," Star shrugged, clearly past caring as she waded further into the pond until the water was brushing up against her naval. She remained in her underwear, but likely only because it wouldn't take too long to dry, whereas jeans and a shirt might take a good few hours.

She paused, spinning about in the lake, creating gentle circles in the greenish water, putting her fists on her hips just below the surface, "are you coming? I'm not hunting down your meal _for_ you, Michael. You're a big boy."

He huffed, slipping off his jacket and tossing it to the grass with a grunt, quickly getting to work on the rest of his clothes. This was stupid. This was crazy. This was...well, it was kinda hot...but did he really need to get worked up right now? That freaky fucking dream about David still playing in his mind? The asshole was probably somehow influencing him even now, pressing the thought of it back into his mind. Michael wouldn't put it past him. Well, _fine_. Whatever. He was hungry, and nearly naked, about to take a dip with the sexiest chick on the planet. If this didn't put him in a good mood, then nothing would. So Michael let go of his worries, his nagging thoughts, his lingering feelings of anger, he did the same thing he'd done for the past two years to make the time go by faster, and he just lived in the moment.

As he splashed into the water, Star held up a hand to silence him, glaring, "don't make so much noise! You'll set them off!" She warned, sinking lower into the water and paddling towards the geese, slowly and calmly, doing her best not to disturb the tension in the water too much.

Michael was less focused on the geese, and more on the slender curve of her neck bobbing in the water when she pressed forward, glistening under the mid-day sun. In a way, it reminded him of the first night he'd seen her on the boardwalk. Sexy. Mysterious. Just beyond his reach...he was falling for her all over again, and falling hard. Just like then.

"Come on, if you get around them from the other side, I think we can grab a few before they know what's happening!" Star whispered excitedly, turning back to glance back at Michael. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat, and she quickly turned away. Was it just him, or...? No...probably just him. He might be getting horny as fuck, and thank god his nether regions were hidden from view, but he seriously doubted Star had anything else on her mind but a good meal. And he couldn't honestly say he wasn't just as hungry.

Michael paddled around, just past her, until he was several feet away from the flock, approaching them from a different angle. It was odd, catching the sound of over a dozen tiny hearts thrumming in a very different beat than the one he'd recognized in Star, and the other people he'd encountered since drinking David's blood again. But it wasn't...bad...and if he'd looked back at his companion at that very moment, he would have seen a flash of gold surfacing in her eyes to match his own, delicate fangs cutting into her gums for the first time to dangle in her mouth in preparation for the kill.

It wasn't an easy hunt, unfortunately. Michael was a noisy swimmer, unlike Star, who seemed to float about in the water as if she were a god damned water nymph. She certainly looked like one right then, anyway...albeit a very vicious one.

Feathers flew as he tried to wrangle his kill, and the goose wasn't too happy about it either. When Michael tried to wrestle it into his arms, the gangly birdy bastard pecked rapidly at his face, hissing and snapping, practically drawing blood in the process. It didn't escape him that the great irony of this situation was that if it managed to get any of his blood in it's beak, there was a distinct possibility it would become even more wild and murderous. What would that make it, he wondered? A quarter vampire? A goose of the Baskervilles? Okay, he was getting delirious now. He needed to pin this damn thing to his chest so he could get a firm grip on it.

"Michael, hurry up!" Star scolded, her hands wrapped tightly around her own quarry's neck as she used her thumbs to pin it's beak closed. Of course, the wings were still flapping wildly, but she was still having a lot more success than he seemed to be.

With a surge of frustrated energy, Michael finally managed to bury his fangs into the bird's neck, and restrain it...just barely. Star had done likewise, as if they were some kind of synchronized pack. In a way, they were. Right now, they both shared a connection in their blood, after all, thanks to David.

It didn't taste quite the same, nor nearly as good as his brief taste of deer's blood. Nor was it as truly satisfying as he suspected the man he'd almost torn into the night before might have been... _but..._ the more he drank, the less painful the hunger became. It didn't go away, but it certainly eased. Enough for him to clear his mind and set his thoughts in order. Enough for him to finally quell the anger he didn't realize he was still stoking.

The rest of the geese had taken off by then, perhaps sensing on some primal level what danger their little feathered necks would be in if they stuck around.

* * *

"That was fun. Messy, but fun..." Michael remarked, nestled in the grass by the shore of the pond with Star pressed up against his chest, her hair spread out around her head as it dried under the sun.

"Michael Emerson. Goose murderer. Doesn't really have much of a ring, does it?" Star teased, tweaking one of his chest hairs, making him jump a little.

"Hey! Easy!" He chided, slapping her shoulder with his free arm, while the other was tucked behind his head to cushion it on the grass.

She sat up to look up at his face, and giggled, reaching a hand up to pluck a small downy feather from the corner of Michael's lips and blow it away.

He grinned up at her, "I think next time we should try something without wings. Maybe...dog?"

"Michael!" She slapped his chest, laughing and leaning back down to snuggle closer to him. Maybe they weren't perfect. The situation definitely wasn't. But they'd soak up every moment in the sun today that they could, because neither Michael nor Star had any doubt it could very well be their last chance to do so.

"You think we should catch a few squirrels or something for the road? Just in case we get hungry on the way back to the church?" Michael suggested, and she tweaked his chest hair again.

* * *

It wasn't fun sleeping in a motel room with tape liberally coating the window, but the boys wanted to stay close to Michael and Star. David had already decided tonight was the night he took the final step in forcing their hands, and it was safer this way. The barn had been comfortable, of course. Sleeping in their natural positions was always more enjoyable than piled on a mildewy mattress...but it was simply too far away. And the closer David was, the more he could sense exactly what Star and Michael were up to while he slept.

He was furious. Livid now...though his calm expression, frozen in sleep, betrayed nothing. The other Lost Boys could certainly feel the tension.

 _"I'm not surprised. The deer was fun, but I told you it was stupid. Only gave them ideas,"_ Dwayne remarked.

 _"Shut up!"_ David snarled back.

 _"Maybe we shoulda taped their mouths closed when we did it?"_ Paul quietly suggested, a little more than worried David might just decide to blame this on him. The deer _had_ been his idea, after all...

 _"Shiiiiiiit, man! Go to sleep! We can talk about this later!"_ Marko grumbled. He did not like to have his beauty rest interrupted for anything in the world.

 _"Hush little Marko, don't say a word, mama's gonna buy you a-"_

 _"Paul, what the fuck are you doing?"_ David asked, irritated.

 _"Just trying to help our baby boy get some more shut eye, Davey..."_ Paul cooed. And though it took a lot of effort on his part, David did manage to raise an arm, sluggishly, and slap punch him in the back of the head.


	9. Chapter 9: Missing the Sunset

Author's notes: I hope I explained that cold issue well enough here. Anyway, I might just finish up the next chapter after this and post it tonight, if I get the chance.

* * *

The hours seemed to melt away, oh so quickly. Michael and Star lying in that field of dampened grass, waiting for their underwear to dry, and clinging to each other in a half-sleeping state. They were perhaps closer now than they ever had been, on the brink between life and death, with a tremulous hold on their final shred of hope...thanks to their little hunt on the lake.

"I miss your bike," Star whispered against Michael's ear, pressing even closer to him.

"I don't," he replied quietly. "It was a shit bike, Star." He was lying. Sure, compared to David and the others, Michael's bike really wasn't much to brag about...but it wasn't as if he didn't have a thousand mundane memories associated with it. Pleasant ones. Un-marred by the first summer he'd spent in Santa Carla. Days of driving through Arizona heat for the sake of a ride, or weekends when he'd somehow manage to cajole even Lucy into riding behind him to enjoy the feel of wind beating against her as he powered around their neighborhood. It was a shame his experience with the Lost Boys pretty much corrupted it all. Made him resent even having a bike, though it did in a very remote way lead him down the rocky path of saving Star. For a short time, anyway.

"It wasn't that bad..." Star kissed his chest, pushing herself up and gazing down at him. "When do you want to start heading back?"

His eyes wondered up to the setting sun, hazy and quivering on the orange horizon, and he flinched. Even through his sunglasses, the light was a bit much. "We really should get going _now_..."

"But?"

"But...just a few more minutes aren't going to kill us..." _He hoped..._

 _"Michael..."_

He jerked, looking at Star. He could swear he felt her whisper the word in his mind...but that was impossible.

"Michael."

"What?"

"If this is the last day we have together, I want you to know that the last two years have been...amazing."

He snorted, turning his head to let his cheek slightly brush against a few blades of tall grass around his arm still propped behind his neck. "Yeah?"

"I mean...every night I've pretty much been terrified to even breathe, or sleep, or do anything but look over my shoulder and wait for them to just come running out of the shadows to rip our throats out-"

"Yeah, that's definitely amazing," Michael rolled his eyes.

"..." Star frowned, reaching to his cheek and letting her fingers trail ever so slightly against his skin, "I mean the rest of it has been nice. Just...being with you."

Michael avoided looking at her, letting his eyelids slowly drift closed, "yeah..." he mumbled, "I like being with you, too..."

"I love you, Michael." The words came out in a whispered rush, as if she were afraid to even say them aloud.

"Mmmmhm...Me too..." He yawned, falling into a very light slumber. And he wasn't lying...but damn, sometimes she just talked too fucking much. More so now that they'd been together for two years than that first week together, when every single sound or movement in that cave during their short and intense moments of intimacy seemed to make her jump and drive her closer into his arms. But even if the chatter was sometimes grating, he wasn't sure whether he'd really want her to stop. The day she did, she would not longer be Star. And he would no longer be Michael.

"Don't forget this. _Don't ever forget this_ ," he vaguely heard her gentle whispers against his cheek, as she too fell asleep at his side. If only the sun could stay in the sky forever, and protect them from the darkness creeping ever closer. The darkness that had stripped away pieces of them both when they first tasted from that sacramental bottle, and killed a part of both Michael and Star without their knowledge, even after Max's blood had died in their veins before it was replaced by David's. The very darkness that left them both chilled to the bone each and every day since, and would only warm them when they finally gave in to it...

Even though they were locked together in the grass, aware of their surroundings, present together in the fading light of the day...this afternoon together had felt more surreal and dream-like than the actual nightmare of David forcing himself on both of them.

* * *

Streaks of wind kicked through the meadow, pressing tall bundles of grass to the ground in sheathes of dark green, tickling at Star's hair and blowing it from her face just enough to make her shift and pull away from Michael's chest. Cracking her eyes open, she felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as realization hit. They had slept through the rest of the day. What's more, they were well into the thick of the night, and three elongated shadows painted hers and Michael's legs in black as Marko, Paul, and David looked down on them together, not bothering to wear their human masks in favor of watching terror blossom on her face.

"Mi-" She squeaked, as Marko leapt forward and wrapped a hand around her mouth in one swift movement, dragging her kicking and clawing away from her companion as he roused himself.

"Now, now, Star...I think you need to calm down," David drawled, stepping towards them and placing a gloved hand on her forehead while Marko obligingly tipped her chin up just enough to force her to meet the leader's gaze.

Michael, meanwhile, was pushing himself up on his elbows, and barely registering what had just happened before Paul launched himself upon the boy and restrained Michael against his chest, though he didn't bother to cover his mouth to silence him.

"Leave us the fuck alone!" Michael howled, trying to jerk himself from Paul's grip, unsuccessfully. The older vampire grinned gleefully, shifting until they were pressed closer together.

"We got a live one!" He cackled, glancing back over at David, who by now was focused on Michael with a cruel sparkle in his eyes.

David ran a tongue over his fangs thoughtfully, pulling away from Star and nodding towards the curly-haired vampire. In an instant, fangs were buried deep in Star's throat, and she couldn't do anything but scream against the hand pressed hard against her mouth.

"STAR!" Michael cried out, feeling a new surge of energy and rage boil over, and he threw his head back to butt Paul hard in the face. The vampire cursed, grabbing at his bleeding nose and giving Michael the chance to stumble forward in an attempt to pull Star from Marko's grasp. But he was, of course, far too slow...and this only gave David the opportunity to tackle him to the ground and pin his hands behind him, using a free hand to tear at Michael's hair and jerk his head back to he could watch Star lose consciousness in Marko's arms, blood trickling slowly down her neck around his mouth, eyes a sliver of terrified gold.

David leaned down, dragging a tongue over Michael's ear and chuckling darkly, "don't worry, she'll be alright. We just thought it might make things easier to deal with that shit you both drank today. After all, your bodies are temples, aren't they?"

"MOTHER FUCKER!" Michael's angry cursing as he tried to buck and throw David off, fruitlessly. The leader was too strong for him now, made all the more powerful with his own blood rushing through the boy's veins instead of Max's.

"Really, Mikey, you're such a little bitch sometimes..." Paul complained, rubbing at the blood beneath his nose and dripping over his chin.

Before Michael could send back an angry rebuttal, David's fangs were sunk deeply into his neck, tasting him, savoring him, and ultimately draining him until blessed darkness washed over the boy and he was pulled into the same abyss Star floated in nearby. His last thoughts before he completely lost consciousness were in self-disgust and confusion when he realized he was hard.

* * *

The first thing Star felt as she awoke was the press of cracked leather at her back, and a throbbing pain in her right ear. It had healed ages ago when she'd cast the symbol of her link to the Lost Boys into the ocean...but she could feel a slight weight hanging from her earlobe, and realized David must have re-pierced it while she was out.

Sluggishly, she opened her eyes, and found herself staring across a booth table at a similarly dazed Michael, fully dressed and...his own earring on full display. She tried to speak, but he gave a quick shake of his head and shot her a warning glare, nodding to his right. She squinted, letting her eyes trail about the room. They were sitting in the booth in an old dive bar, that much was clear. But where were the others? And...she looked down at herself, frowning...what the hell was she wearing?! A lacy black half-shirt? A matching bra? A LEOPARD PRINT MINI SKIRT?! Those... _bastards_! They'd...they'd stripped her and treated her like a dress-up doll while she was unconscious?! The irony that she was more upset about her clothes right now than the situation they were in escaped her for the moment, and perhaps it was a form of self-defense. Focusing on something that irritated her at least helped push the fear away. And if she recalled his sick tastes correctly, Paul was the one most likely to have decided she'd look best dressed as strung-out hooker.

"Just stay calm," Michael rasped, flinching as he spoke. His voice was cracked and pained, and she wasn't surprised...he had a nasty wound on his neck, caked in dried dark clots.

" _Calm?! You're one to talk!_ " Star hissed back at him, and took a gulp of air at the intense wave of pain that seemed to radiate from her throat with that one exclamation. She didn't doubt her neck looked just as bad as his right now.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Star tried to push herself up so she could climb out from the booth, but her legs were too weak, and she only fell back down in the process with an undignified huff.

"Yeah, tried that," Michael snorted. "Just keep quiet, maybe we can buy ourselves some time if they don't know we-"

 _ **BANG!**_

The entrance of the bar was kicked open, and in strode Paul, Marko, and David. But no Dwayne...

"I've got a proposal for you both," David stated as he drew towards the booth and slammed his hands down at the edge of the table, smirking.

"Go to-" Michael began, and David's hand snaked out to grab at his neck, purposefully pressing at the raw area of skin that had just been torn open only a few hours before.

"Keep your fucking mouth shut when grown-ups are talking, Michael," the leader of the Lost Boys hissed, gazing at him intently for a solid thirty seconds until Michael went lax in his seat, reluctantly submitting. There wasn't much else he could do right now, as weak as he was.

Paul and Marko wondered over to the bar counter, throwing themselves into a pair of stools and watching David's performance intently.

"As I was saying," David continued, pulling his hand away and drawing it towards his mouth to lick up the little droplets that had formed on his fingers when he worried the wound on Michael's neck. He'd removed his gloves already, which only made Star wonder if perhaps he'd already planned on making a demonstration like that.

"I've got a proposal for you both. You see, I wasn't sure whether you really knew what you were trying to turn down, running away from us...trying to kill me," his eyes flew to Michael's face with that remark before he continued, "etcetera...etcetera. So me and the boys decided maybe it would be best to show you what you're missing. And don't worry, I'm not going to drag you up to a hill on a beach somewhere and organize a buffet. We don't really have the time for that, do we? So...Paul took on the task of...relieving this bar owner of his duties, and pretty soon we'll be opening for a late night happy hour."

David wrinkled his nose, continuing, "and clearly that afternoon snack you both had was proof enough you haven't completely rejected my gift."

"W..." Star licked her lips, "what's your point, David?" She asked quietly, forcing herself to stare him straight in the face for the first time...well...ever.

Marko snickered, biting at the thumb of his glove while his eyes danced gleefully, and Paul leaned back on his stool.

"Girl's grown some balls, Davey..." Paul trailed off, "probably some of that good dream loving brought it out, huh?"

Star glared over at Paul, and if she wasn't afraid of David's wrath, she might have thrown out a retort to match Michael's own impulsive attitude. But she was smart enough to remain quiet while David continued his dramatic little lecture. She didn't miss his performances, that much she was certain of.

"You've probably noticed one of my boys missing from our little party," David cut to the chase, pulling back from the table and digging a fresh pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket, slapping it against his palm. "He got homesick. I think he said something about paying your little brother a visit..." he looked back at Michael to gauge his reaction. And luckily, the boy was smart enough to keep quiet...though there was no missing the anger and hatred burning in his eyes, radiating from his posture.

"Of course, if we make this little party a quick one, I might be able to catch up to him...change his mind. All you two have to do is prove to me that you're stronger than the blood. That you'll spend the next hour catching up with me and the boys, no fighting, no running. And if at the end of that hour, you haven't completely given in to your hunger...I'll let you both go. I'll let you go, and I'll convince Dwayne to leave that little blonde fuck alone too. If not...I'll still stop him, but you'll both come home with me, no fighting, and rejoin our happy little family. What d'ya say?"

David grinned, pulling a cigarette from the pack with two clawed fingers and drawing it to his lips. He didn't light it just yet. Instead, he waited for their response.

"What's it gonna be, Star? Michael?"

Star closed her eyes, centered herself, took a deep breath, and looked back across the table at Michael, who looked just about as worried as she felt. If they were together, maybe they could fight it again. Maybe they could push the hunger away, and this would all be over. David would leave them alone, and he might even have a way of severing their connection to him. Make them human again...

They really didn't have any other options.

"We agree," Michael rasped, raising a shaking hand and sliding it across the table. Star took it in hers, and stroked the top of his palm, weakly.


	10. Chapter 10: Barflies

Author's note: Honestly, I like classic country music, but somehow I doubt a bunch of hair metal biker vampires from California would be too hot on it. Anyway...copious bloodshed and violence is about to occur in this chapter.

* * *

"There's nothing but shitty country on this thing," Marko whined, flipping through the songs on the beat-up bar jukebox. "The sooner you two eat, the better, I can't handle the crap music in these hick towns anymore," he added for good measure before reluctantly settling on 'Blood Red and Goin' Down'. At least the name was cool. Then he gave the jukebox a good kick of frustration before striding back towards the booth Michael and Star were tucked in, flopping down beside Star and throwing an arm around her shoulders. She flinched, but remained silent, digging her nails into the scratched up old table top in front of her, staring straight ahead at Michael.

It was only now she'd noticed the liberties the others had taken with his clothes too. Sure, he still had the same jacket, but his shirt was black...probably to hide the bloodstains David no doubt expected would blossom there later if Michael wasn't able to keep control of himself. She tried to lean forward and catch a glimpse of the rest of him, see if they'd at least let him keep his old Levis, when she felt the pressure of Marko's clawed hand on her shoulder easing her back into place. She didn't struggle, because that was part of the deal. But oh how she desperately wanted to find something sharp and jam it in his hand right then and there. There was a feral quality to that urge, something inhumanly dark and vicious. She didn't know whether thinking about it too much would be a good idea...but the image of Marko screaming in pain and drawing away like a frightened animal gave her a secret sort of glee.

Michael's blue eyes stood out in his drawn face, as he focused on Star, and fought back the impulse to try and do the very thing to Marko she had imagined doing herself. They couldn't have any idea how similar their thought process was at that moment, but David relished listening in from the comfort of a bar stool, while Paul happily polished the counter top as he tied an apron about his waist and played house. They'd just flipped on the neon 'open' sign at the front of the building, so any minute now the game would really be kicked into full gear.

 _"Just so we're clear, I've got Mikey. That means, he bites first...I win. Got it?"_ Paul's thought rang in Marko and David's minds, hidden from the halfies sitting at their little booth together quietly, too stubborn to play nice enough even to talk about the weather. But that would change, soon enough, once they finally fucking gave in. And weren't they just being so self-righteous about it, too. Like martyrs. Sitting there and pouting, he could just see them now strung up on crosses. It was more than a little irritating. After all, you didn't see him making a fuss about it when David made him eat his cousin back in the twenties. Granted, she was a bitch, but she was still his cousin! And they couldn't even bring themselves to chow down on complete strangers?!

 _"I've got Star,"_ Marko joined in quietly. He was increasingly delighted that his attentions were practically making Michael and Star squirm in their seats. As sweet as he may look when his fangs weren't out, he had a pretty sick sense of humor, even for a vampire.

 _"Both of them. At once."_ David clarified, looking back and forth between the other vampires while he leaned back against the bar and let smoke drift out of one corner of his lips, smirking. He'd cheat if he had to. He didn't plan on losing this bet. His remark had a second meaning, though. Both of them. At once. When the bet was over, and they submitted to the blood lust, they'd be _very_ compliant, after all...

"And you call _me_ a horny fucker!" Paul cackled aloud, causing Michael and Star to jump, their gazes sliding towards the bar to look at him in confusion.

"...I really don't want to watch that, Davey. Can't you keep it in your pants until we get home?" Marko added, biting on the thumb of his glove as he watched David throw a warning scowl between them.

"...The fuck are you two talking about?!" Michael blurted, panicking. He didn't understand a god damned thing they were saying, and he didn't want to, either. But then he recalled the dream...and felt sick to his stomach.

"You know something, Star? First time I ever saw you, I thought...fuck, that's some curly hair. Wonder if the curtain matches the drapes." Marko leaned in close to Star's ear, grinning all the while as he spoke.

"I could say the same thing to you," she replied, looking at the wall, a muscle in her jaw twitching as she gritted her teeth in an attempt to restrain herself. Just an hour. This would just be an hour. Already five minutes down. Just fifty-five to go.

"Back off," Michael ground out.

 _Don't get jealous, Michael. That's what he wants!_ Star wished he could read her mind in that moment, nervously pressing a foot forward under the table to brush against his calf in an effort to calm him.

"Play nice, kids, sounds like we got some customers," David called out as the entrance to the door opened and a group of burly bar-flies poured in. About eight in all, each hairier and more age-worn than the last. Not a terribly appetizing sight. But enough to send both Michael and Star's pulses raging as they picked up the scent of human blood in the air. After they'd been drained so effectively, the hunger would be stronger now than either of them had ever known.

"Where's Bill?" The gruffest member of the group croaked, sitting down at a stool and giving Paul a dismissive snort. "Why's he got some kid who's balls ain't even dropped workin' back there tonight?" He added, scratching at his hairy chin before he adjusted a grease-stained trucker cap on his head to cover his balding pate.

"Billy-boy went on a break. Said he'd like me have a go at it, one night only." Paul replied, grinning and chuckling as if the remark about his balls was the funniest thing he'd heard since they actually had dropped several decades ago. Probably because he was imagining what he'd do to the guy for saying it.

"That don't sound like Bill," another man called out as he crossed to the other side of the bar and pulled three pool sticks from a rack, passing them to two of his companions before snatching up a chalk square.

The remaining four men took their seats at a table facing the booth Star, Michael, and Marko were nestled in. One of them, gangly and grinning with a mouthful of rotting teeth, was more than a little interested in the only chick in the bar...especially with the eye-full he was able to get of her chest through that top. By the looks of things, he thought she was begging for it. And Star...she forced herself to begin counting down the seconds as she focused on the table-top and examined the scratches she'd carved into the wood.

"Gimme a beer on tap, boy," the man at the bar shouted at Paul, "and a round for the rest of us, huh?" He glanced over at David, who watched him intently, tapping his cigarette in a dirty ashtray on the counter top.

"Boy, huh?" Paul bobbed his head, "alright. That's cool. Yeah...I can do that, no problem."

"You got a problem, little man?" He straightened up to his full height, glaring at David through his red-rimmed eyes. The man was the worst kind of alcoholic. The kind who pre-gamed, gamed, post-gamed, and pretty much drank so much throughout the day that there was a higher proof in his veins than a bottle of rotgut.

David narrowed his eyes, a dangerous warning in them that belied his smug grin. "No, no problem at all." He nodded to Paul, "treat him real nice, Paul. You know what I mean?"

Paul's grin matched his own as he leaned forward on the bar and crossed his hands in front of himself, "I don't know, Davey. Do you know what he means, Marko?"

Marko looked towards the bar, slowly pulling his arm from around Star, to her immense relief, "no, I don't know what he means, Paul. What about you, Michael?"

Michael looked up at the ceiling, "go to hell. All of you. I'm not going to say it."

"Say what?" David quirked an eyebrow, innocently. 'Innocently'.

"'I don't know what he means, do you, Star?'" Michael mimicked, immediately scowling when he realized he'd just been tricked into saying it anyway.

The Lost Boys trained their eyes on Star expectantly, and the remaining patrons in the bar did as well, a little more than confused exactly what kind of scene was playing out right now.

"I know what he means," Star finally sighed. "And I don't like it."

"You kids are weird," one of the men shook his head as he wracked up the balls and prepared his shot. "Clearly you ain't from around here," he added, taking in their appearances. "You're dressed real funny. When I was your age, I wore normal clothes," he directed his attention particularly at Marko, eyeing the cut-off t-shirt with more than a little disdain. The word 'faerie' rolled around in his mind, and small-town bar manners prompted him not to say it until he had a few more drinks. Marko had already picked his meal for the night.

"I sure do," the man who had yet to take his eyes off of Star even for a second remarked, giving her a good...long once-over. Focusing on one area in particular. She blushed furiously, reaching for Michael's hand across the table again, making it clear she wasn't interested.

"Hey..." One of the other men at the table craned forward, "what's wrong with you kids?" He'd just noticed the gashes on Michael and Star's necks, when a few droplets of blood fell onto Star's hand as she leaned towards her companion.

"Cut themselves shaving," David remarked dryly.

"I ain't never seen a girl like that had to shave her neck," the man replied doubtfully.

That was when Paul had finally poured the jerk at the bar his beer, and crossed the room to quietly lock the door, turning back and pressing himself up against it with a sneaky little smile. "I can tell you one place she doesn't shave, if you play nice," he snickered as his fangs descended.

And David proceeded to push himself away from the bar as well, now that the most impulsive member of their little pack had decided to spill the beans less than ten minutes in to the party.

 _"I was hoping for a little more cat and mouse,"_ he sighed, though not too terribly upset. The fucker who'd been snapping at him was beginning to get on his nerves.

"What the hell?!" One of the men shouted, reaching for a gun under his jacket, when Marko leapt straight across the bar and sailed over the pool table to attack. A shot rang out in the bar, blowing him back against the ceiling in a splatter of blood and shattered stucco. The three men surrounding the pool table gaped up at him as his lifeless body seemed to cling there, suspended above them like some kind of gruesome chandelier...before he came crashing back down, totaling the pool table beneath him.

Paul and David watched silently, while Star very slowly tried to pull herself out of the booth, though she hardly had enough energy to even move. Michael looked at her, eyes wide, but he remained silent. Maybe...maybe they'd be distracted long enough so she and him could get away...

Time seemed to stand still as the music on the jukebox died, and Marko remained motionless...until the man with the smoking gun leaned forward to poke at him with a cue stick...and that was when he pulled up, laughing wildly, snatching the only somewhat useful weapon the man had, though he likely didn't even know it...and throwing it against the wall to watch it shatter into a thousand pieces. His victim screamed as Marko pulled him close, coughing up his own blood, and only too happy to replenish it with his prey's own.

The other players quickly dropped their own cues and tried to make a run for it, only to run smack into Paul, and he wrapped his hands around their necks, "game's not even over yet, boys!" He cackled, squeezing, squeezing, and...grinning even wider when he felt the satisfying squish and crack of their crushed windpipes and shattered neck bones.

Star had reached the edge of the table now, and tried...oh how she tried to push herself to her feet...and she only managed to stumble into a graceless heap on the ground.

"Come on, honey, I'll protect you," the greasy man at the table whispered, jumping out of his chair to rush towards her. There was little chivalry in his motivations, but if he somehow got some tail before these demons tore him to pieces, that would be enough. Clearly she wasn't capable of doing much else than letting him have a go of it anyway.

"Star..." Michael rasped, but before he could say much more, a new song was blaring from the jukebox, loud enough to drown out the screams that would fill the bar. Ironically, it was a very cheery one too, 'I've Got a Tiger by the Tail', by Buck Owens. Not that any of them knew that.

"Guess it's my turn," David stepped towards the man with the beer, and there was nothing of the gruff front he'd been displaying only a few minutes before. No...he was pissing his pants.

"...Ugh..." David wrinkled his nose, "well, you just got lucky. I'm not going to eat you," he sighed, and a grateful smile spread across the man's lips before it was immediately wiped from his face as he crumpled to the ground. David pulled his bloodied hand away from a gaping cavity in his victim's chest.

"...Fuck, Davey, you should've ripped out his balls! Could've made a good joke! Something like 'I guess _yours_ finally dropped', y'know? Or...or maybe 'this is nuts!'..." Paul complained, when the remaining three men seated at the table near Michael and Star tried to make a break for it to the locked door.

Marko pulled his bloodied mouth away from his quarry, snickering at Paul, "dude, Paulie, that was...that was _really fucking_ stupid."

Paul shrugged, rounding on the men who'd rushed for the door and sailing towards them with an insane cackle.

"GOING SOMEWHERE?!" He shouted, voice feral and deep.

* * *

The greasy bastard pressed up against Star on the ground, running his fingers through her hair, whispering soothing words against her head while he kept his eyes trained on Michael as if to say 'you're a pussie. Why aren't you down here getting one last squeeze before you die, kid?' And god, how he wanted to really tear the fucker's throat out...watch the crimson spill over his hands, lick it up from the ground while the man just stared in horror at his life draining away in a puddle around him. ' _45 minutes left_ ', Michael gritted his teeth. ' _45 minutes left, and we're safe. Don't...don't do anything..._ '

But what would he do if Star was hurt?! What would he do if the others just _watched_ , let this fucker get away, drag her out into the night as if he was rescuing her, just so he could toss Star in the bed of his truck and stick his dirty-

" **STAR, NO!** " Michael shouted, as the thread of control in her finally snapped, and she seized towards the man who'd wrapped her in his arms, digging her teeth deep into his neck and shrieking as blood bubbled up from his skin into her mouth in quick hot spurts. And as she caved, he could see the horror of her actions fade away from her face...replaced by a dark, wonderful glee. The part of him he'd been holding back, the part she'd been helping him control, loved the sight. And the other part...the remaining will to keep fighting and running and doing anything he could to remain free from the Lost Boys...began to fade in the face of his hunger.

On cue, David grabbed one of the thrashing men from Paul, and he was doing quite a good job of somehow restraining three men at once. Dragging the man across the bar, he tossed the victim directly at the last remaining member of his pack left un-turned, only too happy to witness how the blood lust would take over. A thrill ran down his spine as he reached down to stroke through Star's hair, keeping his eyes trained on Michael. Star groaned through a mouthful of blood, struggling to chase every single drop she could.

And Michael, oh god...it was coming back. That same feeling he'd had on the road, or when he was swimming in the lake with Star chasing geese, but this time he knew there was no one left to hold him back. Not even himself. With one last sad glance at the girl on the ground, face painted red, eyes glowing gold now and forevermore whenever she ate...he let himself go.

The first drop on his tongue when he bit into the man's throat, surprised at how easily the skin seemed to split...the first drop was hell. Hell, because it made him even hungrier. From then on, absolute heaven, as ironic as it was. He would always be cold now, but it was changing. Becoming something more...natural...comfortable. Growling into his victim's neck, he rode on a sea of ecstasy and pain, as his soul was ripped free from his chest and replaced with a monster, sewn into him, permanently fixed into his very being.

Michael Emerson was gone. Star was gone. And now...they were going home. David won, but what's more...he also won the bet.

The music finally died with the last two victims in the bar, both claimed by a still ravenous set of fledglings, who by now were past caring what or who they killed as long as they could continue to drink and be and live forever in a river of blood. And David's laughter rang throughout the building.

They'd be furious later when they came back to themselves, of course. But for now...he'd never been more proud.

Marko cleared his throat. "You know, Davey...technically I'm the one who actually won the bet...just putting that out there."


	11. Chapter 11: Happy Ending

Author's notes: Came close to actively writing out exactly what they were doing, but...god, this was just funnier. Implied naughtiness follows.

* * *

They had quite a mess to deal with. That was one nice thing about this vacation, David mused to himself. He didn't have to worry as much about disposing of bodies, as long as no one in the area was aware of him and the boys. Of course, their bikes were a dead give-away, and so was that car Michael and Star had been driving...but the car could be dealt with easily. In fact, that's what Dwayne was doing right now. It would have been a stupid idea to trim down their numbers for the sake of a threat, when all he really had to do was tell Michael a little white lie to get what he wanted.

He looked over at the (finally) initiated new members of their pack, too out of it right now with their first kills and the blood high that came with it to register their surroundings, and chuckled. He'd _definitely_ gotten what he wanted, too. And it was so fun to watch, this almost made up for two years driving around the Southern states, sleeping in motel rooms and condemned buildings, often going without proper hunts in favor of this particular quarry. Almost. He still had a lot of things to do, lessons to teach them so they'd never try to run from their pack again, and a very messy fight over their territory when they returned to Santa Carla. And that reminded him of another thing...Max was gone. So not only would they have to fight other smaller packs similar to their own, but possibly even a new head vampire taking control of the entire city. The month they'd gotten to enjoy life without him before Star and Michael hit the road had been fantastic. They were finally free to live and kill as they wanted, no stupid little assignments or family dinners to remind their 'father' (as Max liked calling himself) of their loyalty. David was only too happy to finally truly be the leader of the Lost Boys, and as Max's eldest childe, inheriting the bastards powers had been another definite perk as well.

He stubbed out the remains of his cigarette, giving it a proper funeral in the dirty ashtray, complete with several dozen others to witness it's passing. "Paul. Marko."

The other two jerked up from picking at the corpses in the bar, pocketing keychains and knives, money and various other trinkets. They exchanged a glance and stood up.

"You sure you don't need any help?" Paul asked hopefully, sneaking a quick look at Star, who was too distracted cleaning Michael's neck and purring against his skin to notice.

"Marko." David repeated Marko's name, and the curly-haired vampire gave him an overly-enthusiastic salute, lashing out to grab Paul's collar and physically drag him out of the bar.

"Oh, come on!" Paul protested, the heels of his boots dragging over the scuffed-up wood floor. "I never get to have any fun!" He shouted that last line before the door slammed behind them, and David was left alone with his fledglings. They had yet to notice him, as focused as they were on each other through their glazed eyes, pressing themselves into a corner near one of the booths, purring at each other like contented house cats. As much as they might protest later, deny, argue, whatever it took to prove that they were still the victims...despite the rather enthusiastic flare they'd shown in their first kills...the sight of them right now was almost heartwarming, in the only way a soulless monster could have his heart warmed, at any rate.

David stood up from his bar stool, calmly stripping off his coat and crossing to one of the few tables left standing after their party. He threw it across the top and walked back to the bar, hefting himself up over the counter top to reach for a few bottles of liquor. Taking one quick swig, he pulled back and started to pour the bottles out, crossing back and forth until the bar was thoroughly coated. As much as he wanted to join in right now on the fun, he'd have to make preparations before he did, so their flight would be quicker. They only had a few hours left until sunrise, and he wanted them to be safely back in that barn by then. The motel was an option, but why pass that up in favor of forcing Star and Michael to learn to sleep properly? It was important to drive home their new natures as quickly as possible, so neither of them got it in their heads to try and flee, play the victims again. That game was over now.

He grabbed a few more bottles, though he saved a few top shelf bourbons near his coat for later. Then he finished pouring as much of the rest as he could, walking behind the bar, out to the booths, tossing great splashes on the walls until it wreaked of whiskey and vodka. Thoroughly satisfied that all he'd need to do now was strike a few matches, David slipped off his boots and set them beside his coat, then he proceeded to remove his shirt as well. By now, Michael and Star were pretty much past cleaning, and had let certain other instincts take over. David shook his head, chuckling at how funny their reactions would be later when they realized exactly what they'd done.

"Michael. Star." David turned back to the pair, who slowly pulled away from each other to look over at him, sluggish and confused, but very much willing to listen to whatever their master had to say.

* * *

"What do you think they're doing in there?" Paul asked, stretching his arms above his head as he leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until he was sitting right in front of the bar door. Marko had already turned off the 'open' sign, but they kept guard just in case. David probably wouldn't be too happy if a few humans came in search of a few rounds and caught him with his pants down. Not that they couldn't be dealt with, but it would definitely kill the mood.

"Really, Paulie?" Marko snickered. "I think they're playing Candyland. That's what I think they're doing in there."

Paul turned his head until his ear was pressed against the door, and his eyes glittered cheerfully. "Sounds like Michael's a sore loser. Or he's gonna be a sore something, at least..." Images unfit for anything but the hardest core of porn danced in his mind.

Marko looked down at his nails, scratching at a bit of caked blood that had collected near the cuticles, "always knew he was a screamer."

"So, who's riding with who tonight, ya think?" Paul wondered, cracking a grin. Maybe Star would ride with him. With that little skirt riding up behind him...oh, he'd have a lot of fun...speaking of which, he really _really_ wanted to see what was going on in there. Because now, Michael definitely wasn't the only one singing opera.

"I dunno. But pretty sure you're not in the running, Paulie." Marko shook his head, letting his hands fall back into his lap.

Paul was about to say something when he felt the door against his back being pressed open, and a somewhat ruffled David poked his head through to look down at both of them, "Star needs a new skirt. That one's not going to work anymore. We'll just use the scraps to clean the bikes." He paused. "Actually...get her some jeans. Tight ones. And a decent jacket."

"What?!" Paul pouted. "But...I worked so hard on that outfit! I put my heart and _soul_ into it, Davey!"

David rolled his eyes. "Marko, you get the clothes. Paul, you stay out here and keep watch on the door." With that, the door was slammed shut. And not long after, the musical performance began again.

"Damn. Now _I'm_ feeling left out," Marko laughed, standing up. "Have fun, Paulie. Keep your pants clean, huh?"

Paul winked at him, "you can help me right now if you're that worried about it..."

"...Asshole, after what you did last time? No thanks," Marko shook his head, skipping off across the parking lot to explore the local shops. They were all closed by now, so he'd have to break a window or two, but at least he'd get to have a bit of his own fun in the process if he did find anyone working late. Still, he'd be glad when they were finally back home in Santa Carla, and this was all over. It was going to be one wild ride back...

* * *

Author's notes: Well, this is the final part of this story. If you'd like me to continue with a sequel, I'd be more than happy to. Otherwise I'm also happy just leaving it here with David's happy ending (if you know what I mean. Wink wink, nudge nudge.) So let me know, guys. Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)


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